Thursday
by SammyMae
Summary: When Ranger asks Stephanie for a favor that involves leaving a city in the throws of a late winter storm to conduct a security audit on a luxury resort, she leaps at the chance. When Joe crashes paradise, Harry the Hammer's muscle shows up, and she has to investigate a series of bizarre break-ins, she starts questioning whether this job is a windfall or just a pain in the backside.
1. Chapter 1

**Anything familiar belongs to JE. I'm just playing all mistakes are mine.**

My name is Stephanie Plum and last week my mother told me that I was probably one of the luckiest people in the world. The problem with my luck, she told me, is that it wasn't often good. This statement was made over Sunday dinner in front of a full house and it led to a full on debate as to whether or not bad luck could be considered lucky or if I was just plain unlucky. I didn't feel unlucky. In fact most days I figured everything was pretty good; all things considered. I lived in an apartment that didn't cost me a fortune to keep, I had a landlord who was understanding about the rent being sometimes late, a job that was never dull, friends who kept my life interesting and a love life that was too complicated to be boring. So, all things considered, I sided with my mother: I was lucky and thought my sister Valerie was wrong. It was a sentiment that put a smile on my face for a whole three and a half days.

That is, of course, until I found myself alone in a candy factory with my sometimes partner, Lula and a man who might've inhaled too much sugar. After he tossed Lula's gun into a vat of what could be nougat, he scaled a ladder and stood on a metal platform threatening to jump into an enormous vat of liquefied sugar. It was as he began stripping down that I decided my mother needed to lay off of the Wild Turkey during family dinners; there was no way this could be considered lucky.

"Mr. Dip, I'm sorry, but you missed your court date; it won't take us very long to get you re-bonded but you do have to come with me." I said.

"Don't think a candy coating is gonna protect you if she has to shoot you." Lula said, "And don't even begin to think I'm gonna come in and save your ass when you realize you can't swim in corn syrup."

She had a fair point, I wasn't going to jump in either; my hair would never be the same again.

I felt bad for the guy. His name was Louie Dip, he was short (only five foot two), and he was originally arrested after he got into a fight with his manager. The manager ended it by dumping a ladle full of green food dye on Louie's blonde hair. After several washes and still having green hair, Dip went to a hair dresser to get it fixed. Unfortunately, trying to dye it out only turned his hair a brighter neon green, and now it had the texture of a Brillo pad. When Dip went back to the factory to demand an apology and compensation, it got ugly and ended in a food coloring battle, that resulted in both men sporting bizarre tie-dyed complexions. Both men were fired from their jobs and charged with assault and destruction of property.

Then, during their bail hearing, after Dip had been granted bail, the manager decided that he would shout, in open court, that Dip was going to pay. He then threatened to duct tape Dip to a chair so he could watch as his house was burned down with all his pets inside. The manager was currently undergoing a psychiatric evaluation and Dip's lawyers were working to get the charges against Dip dropped, since he had only acted in self defense.

"If you just explained to the judge why you missed your court date, it would convince him to be lenient." I said. The day Dip was supposed to appear in court happened to coincide with the bail hearing of a local celebrity who had been charged with a DUI. There had been press lined up at the court house and Dip had been afraid they would put his picture in the paper and he would never get laid again.

When I went to pick him up I found a note on the door telling me to come back tomorrow. By then he'd have found the solution and being funky coloured wouldn't matter anymore. He understood that he was still this colour because he was only half human and that if he embraced his true heritage he would be famous. I didn't know what the hell that meant at the time and I didn't really care. What I did know was that the capture money from Dip would mean I could eat this month.

"I can't tell him why! Are you crazy? They'd lock me up in the nut house!" Dip shouted.

"It's true. They would lock him up in the nut house." Lula said, looking at me.

"Maybe he needs to be," I said out of the corner of my mouth, "He thinks jumping into that vat will give him super powers."

"Hey, he could get one of those sugar highs, like a real big one. Sometimes when people are whacked out on other stuff they get super strong." Lula said. This was true, but personally I thought it was more likely that if he didn't drown, he'd go into a diabetic fit.

"Look, what if we were to take you to a doctor before we took you in? He could give you a note to give your lawyer; your lawyer can show it to the judge; it would be extenuating circumstances." I said. Dip paused to consider it, tilting his head like a rainbow-colored pug.

"I guess that would be okay. Do you think it would work?"

"Sure it will, and if the doctor can't figure out how to get it off of your skin, after your court date, we'll come right back here and you can try the candy coating route." I said.

"I just can't go out in public again, I've taken a thousand showers and it won't come off. Mr. Happy is green!" he wailed.

I winced, under normal circumstances I wouldn't want to think about his Mr. Happy. A green Mr. Happy did even less for me.

"See!?" He shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at me. He looked like some sort of psychedelic cherub, standing there in his tighty-whities, socks hiked up to his knobby knees, his hair, bright green, fried and sticking up like he'd made out with a light socket. "No girl is going to let me stick my wiener in her fun box if it's green!"

"Maybe if you didn't call it a fun box." Lula said, "And 'Mr. Happy' and 'weiner' aren't that sexy either. Your problem isn't that Mr. Happy is green, it's that you need to work on your vocabulary." Again, Lula had a valid point. Apparently Dip and his Mr. Happy agreed because he was getting ready to climb over the railing to jump in the candy.

"Wait!" I shouted, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice, "Tell you what, I'll call my mom, she's a housewife from the Burg. If anyone knows how to get that off of your skin, it's her." Dip paused to consider that and nodded slowly. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed my mom.

"How do you get food coloring out of skin?" I asked when she answered.

"What kind of food coloring is it?" My mom asked, "The liquid stuff or the gel stuff?"

"I don't know; it's the stuff used in candy."

"Have you tried canola oil?" she asked.

"It's not for me." I said. I put my hand over the phone, "Mum says to try canola oil. Have you tired that?"

"I've tried everything!" He wailed, "Why do you think my hair looks like this?" Dip turned his head; it looked worse from the back. The frizz had matted and he looked like a mangy green tabby who needed shaving. Note to self, canola oil in the hair isn't such a good idea.

"It didn't work." I told my mother. I held my finger up to get him to wait while mom and grandma compared notes.

"Your grandmother says you need to make a paste out of baking soda, rub it all over your hands and then rinse in vinegar and repeat until the food coloring is gone." Mom said, but she'd taken too long for Dip because he was wailing again. He hooked his thumbs into his jokey shorts and Lula and I both yelled for him to wait.

"You don't wanna do that!" I yelled.

"Why not?!"

"Because superheroes always keep they underwear on. They show you by wearing it on the outside of their super suits. Look at Superman and Batman." Lula said.

"Stephanie, what's going on?" My mother asked.

"Nothing, are you sure it'll work?"

"I don't know, I've never tried it, but your grandma says baking soda and vinegar is used for everything so it's worth a try." Again she took too long to answer for Louie's liking.

"See, not even she knows what to do!" Dip shouted, "No, it should have worked, I told you. I'm meant to be candy, this is my calling, it's my superpower!" he was getting closer to the edge of the vat and I hung up on my mother.

"No, it's not! Listen, she's got another idea."

"It won't work. Nothing works. I'm meant to be a gummy bear."

Really? That's the kind of candy he wanted to be? Talk about low self-esteem. If I were going to turn myself into a candy, I'd want to be something awesome like a giant jawbreaker, multilayered, indestructible, full of color.

"Keep him talking. I'll see if I can climb up and tackle him from behind." I said to Lula and looked desperately around for something to help.

"Don't come up here." He said, "I'm going to do it!"

"Wait, if you're going to turn yourself into a super hero gummy bear, I'd like to see that, only I need to pee really bad. Think you could wait until I get back?" I said.

He paused, "Yeah, I guess I could wait, I mean I need more than one witness so people don't thinks she's nutso." Dip said.

"Hey, you know in my former profession I probably knew a lot of women who would let you put a green willie into her fun box." Lula said, distracting him as I backed away.

"What profession was that?" he asked.

"I used to be a ho." She called back, "As a ho, we see all kinds of junk but a green thing? Well that's special, I know girls who would probably give a freebie just to test drive that."

"You think?" He looked down at his underwear.

"Oh yeah." she said. Nodding emphatically. Dip pulled the elastic waistband of his underwear out and peeked inside.

"Even though it's small?" He sounded doubtful.

"Hey, you have a green thing, you know who else has one? The Hulk. It'll be like one of them optical illusion things. They gonna think it should be on the Hulk, nobody is going to notice if it's a teeny weeny." Lula said. She and Dip kept along this line of conversation and I made my exit.

I snuck towards the back of the platform but Dip had pulled up the access ladder, the only way I was getting up there was if I was Spiderman. I said a quick prayer that Lula could keep him talking and went into the next room.

The room was filled with giant packaging machines for the candy. The packaging was all on huge tubes that looked like giant roles of colorful cardboard toilet paper. On the floor behind the machine was a refrigerator sized box filled with the empty rolls. These weren't flimsy cardboard rolls like inside paper towel; these were strong, industrial strength cardboard that I'm pretty sure could probably support a house. The only other things in the room were unpackaged candy, a big CO2 fire extinguisher and small hand tools.

A few weeks ago I had the flu and as a result I spent far too many hours lying on my couch, staring miserably at the television, specifically at the Discovery Chanel as they did a week long Mythbusters marathon. You know how at the beginning of Mythbusters they always tell you not to try things at home? Well I said a quiet apology to Adam and Jamie and ignored that warning. I'd seen them build enough air canons that I was pretty sure I had the basics down and if I didn't, at least there were plastic shower caps in this room so I could protect my hair in the event that I had to swim in goo to fish Dip out.

I took one of the long tubes and lugged it over to the big fire extinguisher on wheels. I ran to a wall of tools and found a roll of duct tape, used some left over packaging, flexicuffs and the duct tape to secure the nozzle of the fire extinguisher to the big assed tube. I looked around the room, saw nothing that could work as an effective projectile and decided my best bet was my tank top. I took my hair out of my pony tail, pulled the t-shirt off, rolled it up tight so it would fit in the tube, secured it with my hair elastic and stuffed it in. I grabbed a lab coat from a hook on the wall to hide my bra and shoved a shower cap into my pocket, just in case. (I may have snagged a loose peanut butter cup or five while I was at it, you know, for courage). Then I wheeled the whole contraption out to the candy production floor.

"No, I think she'd think that was freaky." Lula was saying, hands planted on her hips. I paused, part of me was curious, but it was a very small part and I was pretty sure I didn't want to know.

"But I thought you paid them to do that?" Dip said, scratching his head.

"You want something too freaky and they gonna think you're a serial killer." Lula said.

Yup. I was right. I really, really didn't want to know.

"Not if I'm a gummy bear." he said, "Your friend is taking too long. Probably the transformation will take a while, so it'll be like missing the previews at a movie." He climbed up onto the first rung of the railing and I pulled the pin on my fire extinguisher, aimed and pulled the lever.

For a long second there was nothing and then there was a loud PHUMPH and the t-shirt went hurtling out of the make shift t-shirt canon right towards Dip. I didn't see if I hit him because at that moment I violently remembered why the Mythbusters always secure their canons before they fired them. The t-shirt left the canon going one way and I was knocked backwards into a row of shelves knocking a freshly open, ten pound sack of powdered sugar all over me.

I waved the cloud of sugar away coughing and spluttering, wondering what it would do to my septum and if sugar calories counted if they were inhaled and not ingested. When the cloud cleared I saw Lula staring wide eyed at the platform. I hadn't heard a splash but my heart was in my throat, wondering if he'd jumped. I struggled to my feet, rushed to Lula and looked up. Louie Dip was on the correct side of the railing, curled up in the fetal position, not making any noise.

"You hit him right in the Junior Mints." Lula said.

"Great but how do we get him down now?" I said. We looked around and found another ladder next to another machine. Together we dragged it over to the ledge of the platform. Once we had it in place, I climbed up the platform and managed to get Dip onto his feet. He painfully moved down the ladder.

Half way down, still trying to be bent double, Dip lost his footing. Lula held out her arms as if she could catch him and he landed squarely on top of her. They both hit the ground with a woof and one of them farted. Which one it was I don't know, because they both looked a little sheepish and said, "sorry." I hauled them both back to their feet and together we helped the hobbling Mr. Dip out to the parking lot.

As soon as we hit daylight, there was a chorus of clicks as an army of police officers drew their weapons on us. Lula threw her hands up in the air. Dip had been leaning more heavily on Lula, (probably because he was really not liking the idea of touching the woman who labeled him in his Mr Happy with a high velocity t-shirt) and he dropped like a sack of sand. I rolled my eyes and hauled him back up to his feet.

"Hold your fire." Eddie Gazzera shouted when he realized it was me and the guns were holstered as men exchanged their weapons for their wallets and money changed hands. My guess was that they were betting on first of all, it was me in there, if I had Lula, and if I would be clean when I came out. Someone hit the jackpot because he was happily taking people's money. I'd be offended, but I probably would be in on the betting if I could be.

"Well at least I'm saved a trip to the police station." I said. Gazzera motioned and two uniforms came rushing forward to relieve me of Dip. Gazzera folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

"Do I want to know?" He asked.

"I think he's going to need the hospital. He took a t-shirt fired from a canon to his Sweedish Berries and thinks he's meant to be a Gummy Bear." I said. Eddie grinned wide.

"You took him out with a t-shirt canon?"

"He was going to jump into a vat of liquid candy." I said defensively, "I had to improvise and make an air canon. I thought it better to hit him with my t-shirt than with a bunch of unpackaged hard candies."

"Yeah, that would have been like firing shrapnel." Eddie said, "Congratulations, that's a new one; nobody will get any money off of your weapon of choice."

"You should give the money to me then. That'll just keep me creative and I can profit off of the insanity that is my life."

"I'll float the idea." Eddie said, he gave me a pat on the back. He looked at his now sugar coated hand and wiped it on his pants, "Nice work. From what I gather it was rather sticky in there." The pun was bad, the compliment sincere. It threw me a bit.

"Did you hit your head or something? Normally you just laugh at me." He grinned wider.

"Nah, we'd have used a bean bag gun under the same circumstances. The t-shirt canon was a nice improve. Did the job."

I shook my head in disbelief, producing a small cloud of sugar that made me sneeze. Eddie rolled his eyes and turned away, talking into the radio mic on his shoulder.

I looked around and predictably Lula was nowhere to be seen. I checked my jeans pocket and found my car keys still inside. Good deal, unless she had learned to hotwire a car, (which wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility) it would mean I wouldn't have to hitch a ride because she'd freaked and bolted. I scanned the lot and saw a disgruntled looking Lula sitting in the front seat of my Range Rover, arms folded, scowl in tact. Yup, she was pissed because she couldn't find my keys. I let out a sigh, shook more sugar out of my hair and trudged through the rapidly emptying parking lot to my car.

The Range Rover was far from new but I liked it. It was white, remarkably rust free and according to Lenny from Lenny's used cars, was built in 1989, but only had 20,000 miles on it. Now I have a lot of experience with buying used cars; I had a strong suspicion that the odometer had been rolled back. I may not have bought his story, but I bought the car anyway. It was a bank account friendly $500 and I didn't really have much room to be picky. The luck thing had come into play two days after when I chugged into the lot of the Bonds Office to find Ranger there with one of his men. The man in question happened to be Rangeman Securities resident grease Monkey and he declared the car a classic. I ended up playing ride along with Ranger that day while my car sat in the lot under Rangeman getting it's engine rebuilt. It now ran like it was brand new and I no longer needed to keep a battery in the trunk in case I needed to give it a boost.

I reached the big white Range Rover and climbed into the driver's seat. Another cloud of sugar filled the air and I wondered if it was going to be stuck in my 80's velour upholstery forever.

"I wonder if I can afford to have this thing detailed later?" I said.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. You didn't lose your favorite gun." Lula grumbled.

My favorite gun was a water gun filled with tequila, and I didn't get too attached to those. Lula on the other hand loved her gun, it was a Jersey thing and not because she had any real talent with the weapon. Lula couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.

"I'm going to have to vacuum my hair before I can shower or I'll look like the Gummy Bear." I said.

"Where the hell am I gonna get another gun like that? I paid a lotta good money for that gun."

"You bought it at a garage sale for ten bucks. You spend more on lunch everyday." I said.

"Well it was one of them antique style guns, it could have been worth lots. I was thinking of taking it on Antiques Roadshow."

"Do you want me to drive you back so you can fish through the nougat for it?"

"Well it won't be worth anything now that it's full of goo." Lula said.

I sighed, "Are you coming to the hospital with me or do you want me to take you to your car?" I asked.

"I gotta go get a new gun." Lula said. She was still sulking when I dropped her off at the Bonds Office and I headed back towards the hospital.

The hospital was a zoo when I got there and the harassed looking triage nurse didn't know me so wouldn't let me go back. I hung around for twenty minutes until another nurse recognized me and took me back to Eddie.

The curtain was drawn around Dip's exam area and when we went through it, I saw why. Dip was completely naked except for a wash cloth covering his man parts. He was completely sedated and drooling into his pillow while two nurses were using an array of different cleansers in an attempt to get the food coloring off of him.

"I don't understand it; it's like trying to scrub off a tattoo." One of the nurses said when I came in.

"My mom said to try a paste of baking soda with a vinegar rinse." I suggested.

"Thanks. We'll try that. I've even tried nail polish remover and it's not doing anything." she said.

Eddie, grateful for an excuse to leave the airspace he was sharing with a drugged up, rainbow colored, naked guy, motioned for me to go to the other side of the curtain. "Come on, we'll go to the cafeteria and I'll take your statement."

When we got to the cafeteria, neither of us were willing to take a chance on the cafeteria food so we stuck to the weak, stale, wannabe coffee. I gave him my version of things and he told me why there had been an army waiting for us when we came out.

"We had no real idea you were in there and I don't want to be there when they tell Morelli." Eddie said, "He's going to be torn between pissed that we all drew on you and chugging a gallon of Maalox."

"How's Joe doing?" I asked.

"He needs a vacation and probably a trip to a gastroenterologist." Eddie said. "He's pulling another triple shift."

"Yikes." I said.

"Yeah. He said if I saw you to get you to let Bob out."

"Sure." I said.

I took my paperwork and checked my watch. It was almost seven, the Bonds Office would be closed, which meant I couldn't get paid tonight. That was a problem because I fed the last of my Cheerios to my hamster Rex this morning and if I wanted to eat I was going to have to mooch from mom and dad.

I walked out to the parking lot and stared at my car. It was up on blocks, the doors were missing, the stereo was gone and the remaining windows were smashed. Now I know that most people would be pissed about this. I wasn't, I assumed it was karma for nailing a guy in the M&Ms with my t-shirt. Also, it was my car, this shit happened all the time. I didn't feel like explaining it to anyone so I took a picture, sent it as a text and waited. It took two seconds for it to send. It took another two minutes for me to write an email to my insurance agent and send him the picture. By the time I hit send on that, my phone rang.

"I need a ride." I said by way of answering.

"Be there in five." Ranger said.

Ten minutes later a flat bed, followed by Ranger's sleek, black 911 Turbo pulled into the lot. Ranger angled out of the car and walked over to me.

"What's in your hair?" he asked.

"Icing sugar." I said with a sigh, "Do you have a tarp or would you rather I rode in the truck?"

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I can't get in the Turbo! You always turn the seat warmers on for me and I'm afraid I might caramelize."

"I can turn them off." He said, his lips twitching.

"You might inhale sugar and pollute the temple." I said.

"You're afraid of me." He said, grinning now. Of course I was afraid of Ranger, anybody sane was afraid of Ranger. His real name was Ricardo Carlos Manoso, he was ex-special forces, my mentor, friend and a major complication in my life. He dressed in black and the rest of him came in varying shades of brown, his hair was dark brown, his skin was the colour of caramel and his eyes were deep pools of the darkest chocolate. I've seen all of him on occasion and it was enough to cause more than one sleepless night.

The memories were good for when my sex life was lacking and at this moment in time, it was lacking big time. Why was he a complication then, when the way he was looking at me with what could only be described as carnal amusement? He was a complication because of one Joe Morelli, my on again, off again, sometimes fiancé. Joe and I weren't on at that point but we weren't off either. I didn't know where I was with Joe.

Joe was leaner than Ranger, sort of domesticated, all Italian and had a tongue like a lizard. He was movie star handsome and once upon a time had been the one to relieve me of my virginity behind the eclair case at the Tasty Pastry. I later ran him over with my dad's Buick and didn't see him again until I started working for my Cousin Vinnie and he was my first FTA. He was innocent and reinstated as a Detective with the Trenton Police Department. Our paths continued to cross and we even tried to live together once. It didn't work.

Now we took turns sleeping over in each other's beds and I had part custody of his dog Bob. I was in love with both Joe and Bob, but I couldn't commit because I was also madly in love with Ranger and Ranger was anti commitment. Lately however, Joe and I hadn't been speaking much. He was working late and undercover a lot and when he wasn't, I was working. We couldn't seem to make our schedules mesh. It had been months since we hit the sheets and the way Ranger was looking at me was all too tempting.

"I'm not afraid of you." I lied, "I'm worried about what sugar will do to you. You're system isn't used to it like mine is."

He ran his thumb over my bottom lip and my brain checked out and my doo-dah took over and I moved closer. He kissed me, his tongue grazed my lower lip. "Sweet." he said against my mouth. He stepped back, smiling.

"So you aren't worried about sugar then." I said stupidly.

"Get in the car." He said, "I'll get it detailed. Where to?"

"I said I'd let Bob out, but after that I guess you'd better take me to my parents' house."

"I don't like you driving the Buick. It's too hard to be covert in it, everybody knows it's you." he said.

"I know, but it's what's available and besides, I want to mooch leftovers off of my parents." I said.

Ranger got into the car and waited for me to get in beside him. I shook my hair out again, the sugar was slowly leaving it and the cloud wasn't as big as it had been before. That was a plus, the downside was that some of it was dissolving on my scalp and I was feeling a bit like a glazed ham. I sighed and got in next to Ranger.

"When did you get back?" I asked. Ranger had a habit of disappearing. At first he just sort of left, now he usually told me when he was going. Sometimes he told me his phone would be on if I needed him, other times he told me to call his second in command, Tank. I rarely knew when he would turn up again.

"Twenty minutes ago." He said, "I was just getting ready to leave Boston when Tank called and said there was a hostage situation at Seewald's Candy Factory and your trackers placed both you and your car there."

I guess it was sort of true. The owner of the factory called to tell me that Dip was there and he was acting crazy. When I got there Dip recognized me, went ape shit and threatened some people with a knife. Lula tried to shoot him, that's how her gun wound up in the nougat and the owner of the factory used the distraction to get everyone out. Dip was still holding the knife when they evacuated and l wasn't carrying a gun so I figure that's why Mr. Seewald thought we were being held hostage. I told Ranger the story and he was smiling by the time I was finished. This was the sort of thing that gave Morelli heartburn and made my mother wonder why she had a daughter who ends up in these sort of situations. The people Ranger went after we're always scary and when they went crazy it usually meant casualties, so my crazy assed skips were his favorite source of entertainment.

"He wasn't worth much, but it's enough to buy groceries and pay my insurance deductible, if they are still willing to insure me." I said.

"I'll add you to my fleet insurance if you're not; you contract for me enough." he said and put the car in park in front of Joe's house. "How long has he been on assignment?" Ranger asked.

"I don't think he is." I said, "Eddie said he was working a triple shift."

"He's not been living in the house for at least a week." Ranger said as he switched off the ignition. Normally he didn't get out of the car if I was going to Joe's, but his values wouldn't allow him to sit in the car while I went into a dark empty house. I used my key to let us inside and braced for impact as I heard Bob come barrelling down the stairs. Bob was probably a retriever of some kind but I'm pretty sure he was also part wookie. He was big and yellow and dumb as a post. He dropped his but when he saw Ranger, but his forward momentum was too much, his back end slid out from under him, he flipped onto his back and skidded to a stop in front of us. He flopped around like a fish for a few seconds as he tried to right himself, then with a loud woof he gave up and stayed on his back, his tail wagging like crazy and his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.

"Vicious." Ranger said.

I rubbed Bob's belly and then helped him roll over. He turned around and whined a bunch of times so I jogged through the house and opened the back door for him before he did something on the floor that I didn't want to clean up. Bob bolted into the back yard and proceeded to yack up what looked like one of Joe's socks. He paced the back yard a few times and hunkered down, probably to pass the other sock. I left him to it and went into the kitchen to put some dog crunchies into his dish and filled up his water. The mail was sorted and lined up on the counter with a note from Joe's mom saying she stocked up his fridge for him when she dropped Bob off.

"You're right, he has been gone for a while." I said. I wasn't even really that annoyed, like I said, it had been a while and our relationship status was uncertain. Ranger did a walk through of the house to make sure everything was secure and came back down to the kitchen. "That dog has an eating disorder." Ranger said.

"What did he eat?" I asked.

"The bathtub." Ranger said. I went upstairs to the lone bathroom. Ranger wasn't exaggerating. Bob had chewed through the side of the fibreglass bathtub and a bunch of the laminate tub surround.

"Oh boy." I said. Ten minutes later, a broom, a dustpan and a big black garbage bag later, Ranger and I had the mess cleaned up as best we could and Bob was contentedly snoring in the middle of Joe's bed. Job accomplished and then some, Ranger and I went back out to the car. I flopped into the seat and my stomach growled.

"I hate to use you like a taxi service, but would you mind taking me to my parents place now?" Truthfully I had no desire to go there tonight. Especially after today, I was in no mood for a lecture.

"I'm all yours, Babe." Ranger said. I smiled at him, and settled into the seat and closed my eyes. I woke up as we were pulling into the garage at Rangeman.

"This isn't my parent's house."

"You're exhausted; Ella will cook us something while you use my shower. I'll take you to your parents' tomorrow when you have your mojo back." He said.

"This is why I love you." I said without thinking and froze. I really hadn't meant to say that out loud. Ranger just smiled and switched off the car.

The elevator opened before Ranger even opened the car door. I was used to _his_ good mojo but even this was unusually good timing for him. Out of the elevator stepped one of Ranger's Merry Men, but calling him a man was an exaggeration. He was a few shades lighter than Ranger, wearing traditional Rangeman black, but unlike most of Ranger's men, he wasn't packing. Probably because he couldn't have been more than fourteen. The kid looked sullen as he stood there holding the door. Ranger sighed and got out of the Porsche.

I thought I was the only one who could get a reaction like that out of Ranger. Curious I hurried out of the car. The kid looked at me and smiled as his eyes did a once over of me. Now sure I still looked a bit like a doughnut and it was probably pretty funny, but I'm pretty sure his smile had more to do with the fact that all I was wearing were jeans, a bra and a lab coat. The coat was securely buttoned but my cleavage was still pretty impressive in it thanks to my Victoria's Secret super sexy push up bra.

Ranger glared at him, the kid blanched and swallowed hard. "This is Miss Plum," Ranger said and the kid immediately looked everywhere but at me. As far as Ranger's men were concerned I was Ranger's personal property and only one or two of them were actually brave enough to speak to me. I wasn't wild about the terminology but it was handy because it meant that word had gotten out to seedier sections of town and for the most part people backed off. My cars were still fair game but only the really crazy and desperate dared to come after me now. Ranger tossed the Porsche keys to the kid, "Detail it." The kid stared mutinously at Ranger for half a second, realized that was pretty stupid and hurried to the car.

I followed Ranger into the elevator and he punched the buttons for five and seven. The doors closed and the elevator gently lurched upwards.

"Who's that?" I asked, "You're not usually scary with your men unless they've done something to piss you off."

"He's my nephew, Carlos." Ranger said, "He was busted for being stupid and I pulled some strings. The judge said he could work for me, or he could do five years in juvie. So he's cleaning cars and doing whatever non essential shit jobs I can find for him until he's proven that he's not an idiot and can be trusted with something important."

"That's nice of you." I said.

"Self preservation. You think your grandmother's scary, you haven't met mine." he said.

I laughed as the elevator doors binged open, Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling and got out to check in with the office. The doors closed again and I went upstairs to his apartment.

I fobbed my way in through the front door and felt all of the tension of the day begin to leave my shoulders. Ranger's place was done in rich neutrals, that were warm and welcoming. It was free of clutter, there were no personal touches except for the flowers his house keeper put on the table in the front hall. I tossed my keys into the dish next vase, which today wasn't a vase of flowers but a small, glossy brown flower pot with a stunning white orchid blooming in it.

I toed off my shoes and walked through the apartment into his bedroom and looked longingly at the bed. I knew it was home to the most delicious sheets ever created, the most comfortable mattress on the planet, and later would contain one of the sexiest men in the universe. I tore myself away from contemplating the bed and wandered through his closet to his bathroom.

I peeled off my clothes and tossed them into the hamper and opened the drawer in the vanity that contained all of my toiletries, including a hair dryer. I stayed here from time to time when my apartment wasn't safe. Ranger's housekeeper kept a drawer of things stocked for my use in case I had to hide from stalkers or my place had been firebombed again. I found my hair dryer, plugged it in and went into the walk-in shower. I set the dryer to cold and blasted my hair with the hair dryer until most of the sugar was gone. I took the hair dryer out of the shower and put it on the counter so I didn't electrocute myself and then set the shower to boil.

I stood under the spray for a long time, allowing the day to be rinsed off of me, before using half a bottle of shampoo to get ride of the stickiness in my hair. I conditioned and then opened Ranger's Bvlgari Green body wash and took a big sniff. I put some of it on a wash cloth and lathered it up. I felt the air pressure change and then a hand, much larger and much darker than mine, took control of the wash cloth.

Ranger's hands were slow and caressed as they glided over my body. My heart was pounding and I found myself holding my breath as I melted into him. He had abandoned the wash cloth and his fingers were stroking my belly, making me shiver, despite the heat of the shower spray. He turned me in his arms, his lips grazed mine as he said, "Breathe, Babe."

Then he kissed me.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Whoops! Totally forgot to add the usual disclaimer! Everything belongs to J/E. And thank you everyone for following and reviewing. Love it!**

I woke up warm and comfortable in Ranger's arms, our legs tangled together, my back to him. Bleary eyed I snagged his watch from the night stand and forced my eyes to focus on the time. It was 00:07. It took me a minute to register that Ranger's watch was in military time and then I groaned and attempted to put it back on the night stand. I missed. I didn't really care either because my next job was to go back to sleep. This was difficult because I couldn't figure out why I'd woken up in the first place. I didn't have to pee, his alarm wasn't going off, my conscience was completely sated and in a sex coma so I wasn't worried that this might be cheating on Joe and if there was an intruder in the apartment, Ranger would have his gun drawn and wouldn't be relaxed behind me. After running through the possibilities of what could be wrong, I figured I was just crazy and was just about to go back to sleep when my stomach growled. Mystery solved.

"The beast is awake." Ranger said, his voice deep and thick from sleep.

"It can go back to sleep." I said and rolled over so I was facing him, "Reality is on the other side of that door." Ranger chuckled and I snuggled closer.

"I know I said I'd take you home after I fed you, I never said after which meal." Ranger said.

"Breakfast, Thursday after next?"

"I have to work in the morning but if you want to stay in my bedroom for two weeks, I have no objections." Ranger said, my stomach gurgled again, "When was the last time you fed that thing?"

"Breakfast." I said.

"You need to eat, Babe" The teasing note left his voice, "If things are that bad, I do have work for you."

"They aren't." I said, "and mom keeps me in leftovers."

"Come on, I promised you food." He made to roll out of bed and I quickly latched onto him so he couldn't. He didn't resist my protest in the slightest.

"If I go out there, I'll look at my phone and there will be missed calls from my mother and a hundred other people all wanting to talk about Dip and asking about my car. It'll kill the mood and then I'll get all weird and think I have to go home. I don't want to go home, your bed is more comfortable than mine."

Ranger flipped me onto my back and braced himself on his forearms above me. He kissed me and just as things started to really heat up, my stomach didn't growl so much as it screamed in protest at being left empty. Ranger chuckled against my lips.

"No ignoring that. I don't think it's going to go back to sleep." He said, "Stay in bed."

He pushed himself off of the bed and I admired the view as he went into his closet to retrieve the single pair of underwear he owned. This was information I discovered when I broke into his place the first time I needed a place to hide. He was out of town at the time and I assumed that there was a lonely pair of shorts in the closet because the rest of his underwear was with him. Nope. Totally wrong. Ranger didn't work normal hours and he wasn't a pyjamas or robe kind of guy. The shorts were a concession to his housekeeper Ella so she didn't have a heart attack should he decide he needed to raid the fridge mid bat nap and she happened to be cleaning.

He left the bedroom and came back a few minutes later with a tray laden with two turkey sandwiches and two bottles of Corona. I wiggled into a sitting position and he put the tray down on my lap.

The sandwich was exactly what I needed and I practically inhaled it. Ranger dropped the second half of his sandwich onto my plate and that disappeared with alarming speed as well. I tried not to think about the fact that I was so hungry because I was broke and my career was like a car crash but Ranger had opened that door; reality crept in a little bit and I knew I was right about the calls. I took a sip of beer to wash down the suddenly stale feeling in my mouth.

"You were in a situation that had the potential to be extremely volatile and you resolved it without a single casualty; you have nothing to be ashamed of." Ranger said and popped the last of his sandwich into his mouth.

"I'm broke. Just once I'd like to come out of one of these things not covered in something. And tell me, who the hell else but me has their car stripped in a paid hospital parking lot?" My voice cracked a little and I chugged more of my beer. I didn't really care if I got a bit drunk, it wasn't like I was driving anywhere.

"The stupid thing is, and I know that I'm probably the only one in the world that believes it, but I actually don't think I'm in the wrong line of work. It's a crap job that doesn't pay well but every time I try to do anything else I come back to this because I actually like it."

"Today you saved a mentally unstable man from what would have been a horrific death. The rest are just details." he paused and was about to say something else when he shook his head and half laughed at himself.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I'm proud of you, Babe." He said and suddenly I didn't care so much about reality. I felt a rush of happy that went all the way to my toes. It got even better when Ranger took my empty sandwich plate from me, put the remains of our dinner on the floor beside the bed and then went about showing me just how proud he actually was.

—-

A week later, after weeks of 70 degree weather that made us all think Spring had sprung early, Winter decided to be a bitch and we were hit with a blizzard and the coldest temperatures recorded in New Jersey in fifty years. Of course this all happened _after_ Ranger dropped me off at my parents' place the morning after our night together. I had been tempted, more than once, to go back to his place to hide from the weather, but I was too chicken. Instead I decided to declare war on my apartment. I spent five days cleaning cupboards, sorting through clothes and eradicating my place of the killer dust bunnies hiding under my bed. I used the building's ancient washer/dryer to wash all of my curtains, my sheets, even the cushion covers on my sofa. The place was shiny and clean and my plan was to reward myself by spending a day surfing Etsy and Pinterest for ideas to spruce up my apartment while I waited for my laundry to finish.

I woke up a little before 7:00 on Wednesday morning curled up in a painfully tight fetal position. I was sleeping in a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt and my apartment was fucking freezing! When I saw that a thin film of ice was forming on the water in the glass beside my bed, I jumped out of bed to check on my hamster Rex. He was hunkered down in his soup can. I covered the can with extra shavings a for added insulation and moved his cage next to my stove. I cranked the gas burner up to high so Rex had a little campfire and I was about to put some warmer clothes on when there was a knock at the door. I went to the peep hole and saw the building Super Intendant, Dillon waiting patiently for me to open up.

Dillion was possibly the most tolerant super in history. He'd do just about anything for a case of beer and he didn't complain about the near constant maintenance my apartment required. Today he was armed with a staple gun and a bunch of heavy duty, quilted moving blankets.

"Hey," he said, when I opened the door. "Heat's out in the whole building, got space heaters on in the basement to stop the pipes from freezing and I've turned the water off, but you're going to need to drain your taps."

"What about the neighbours?" I asked. Most of my neighbours were elderly and living alone, it was probably bad for them to be stuck in a freezing apartment all day.

"Packed them all into a bus to Atlantic City with vouchers for the buffet and rooms at that Chunky Monkey Casino."

"I'm hurt that I missed the bus." I said.

"It left at 5 AM."

"Not that hurt." I said.

"Didn't think you would be. I can give you a hotel voucher if you want it." He said.

Atlantic City always seemed like a good idea right until you actually got there. Then you came home, half dead from the hangover you don't remember getting, no money in your bank account and a lung infection from all of the second hand smoke. I had options that wouldn't drain my bank account and would likely come with free food.

"Nah, I'll be fine." I said.

I helped Dillon hang the blanket in all of my windows to add insulation and block drafts. Then I went to use the bathroom and run the taps. When I came out Dillon was shutting off the tap in my kitchen sink and had switched off the stove.

"I'll take my little buddy downstairs so he doesn't freeze." Dillon said as he picked up Rex's cage.

"Thanks," I said, "When do I get heat back?"

"Got a guy on it already, he figures by lunch." Dillon said.

When Dillon left I ran to the bedroom and threw on a tank top, a flannel shirt and the last pair of clean jeans I had, I crammed my feet into my knock off Uggs and yanked on my puffy coat, threw my bag of laundry and my purse over my shoulder and bolted for my car, sincerely hoping that it wouldn't take a thousand years to dig out.

It was actually a bit warmer outside of the building than it was inside. It was still cold but at least it didn't feel like we were living North of the Wall anymore. When I got to my car I found Ranger's man, Hal leaning against a big black Range Rover while he watched Ranger's nephew, Carlos shovel out my space. Hal looked like Bane's midwestern farm boy cousin. He was big and scary looking but actually quite the softy.

"Start Miss Plum's car." He snapped at Carlos. Okay usually he was quite the softy.

"How did you know when I'd me down?" I asked.

"Didn't." Hal said, "Boss said Vinnie's got work for you so you'd be going into the office today; said we should do you a solid." He took the laundry bag from me and put it in the backseat.

"Good deal. I was just about to call Connie."

Connie Rizzoli was my cousin Vinnie's secretary. She was two years older, two inches shorter and two cup sizes bigger than me. She was 100% New Jersey Italian, and a princess of the Rizzoli crime family. She didn't want to be part of that life, so she worked for my cousin Vinnie, making sure his business didn't go bust.

In the summer I went into the office every day, in the winter I called first. Winter was always slow for me as most of my skips would rather not post bail when the weather was cold. They preferred the hot meals and roof over their heads that jail provided. Dip had been my only income for about a month, so work of pretty much any kind was a good thing.

Carlos finished clearing off my car and glared sullenly at me as he whipped the snow brush into the trunk of the Range Rover. For some reason the clear "Fuck Off" implied in the glare unsettled me and it took me a minute to realize it was because he had Ranger's eyes. Really looking the kid over I realized that it wasn't the only resemblance he shared with his uncle. They had the same mouth and same jawline. Ranger told me once that he had been a skinny kid and it seemed that scrawny ran in the family because Carlos was definitely that; he looked like he was probably going to be tall but hadn't grown into his limbs yet.

"I'm babysitting today so if you need anything, Carlos the Idiot is your bitch." Hal said. Maybe it was his resemblance to Ranger, but I felt bad for the kid, he was clearly miserable.

"I have a couple of bags of clothes that need to go to the Salvation Army if you wouldn't mind loading them into my car for me? They're in garbage bags by the front door." I felt bad for the kid but that didn't mean I wasn't going to use him. I hadn't been looking forward to lugging them down the stairs.

"We'll take care of it and drop them off for you." Hal said.

"Thanks!" I said. I got into the now warm Big Blue and made for the Bonds Office to get my paperwork.

The Bonds office was located in a strip mall next to a laundromat. In theory I could have used the machines there and saved myself a trip to my mother's place. In practice, the machines were expensive and the dryers had a habit of leaving scorch marks on clothes that would always come out burnt, but somehow still wet. I docked Big Blue next to a giant snowbank that was occupying my usual space and trudged into the office. When I opened the door I was hit by a blast of warm air and the smell of coffee and I made straight for the coffee maker.

The front room of the office was Connie's domain, it consisted of a sofa, Connie's desk and a bank of filing cabinets. Vinnie was a stingy son of a bitch, so anything in the office that made it look welcoming was usually purchased by Connie at garage sales. This meant that everything was second hand and a little shabby. The people who came to do business with Vinnie didn't care, they were too desperate to get their loved ones out of jail to worry about the decor.

"Hey," I said once I had the coffee warming my hands, "I hear you have something for me?"

"Nothing decent, but yeah." Connie said and handed over three files, "Hank's in there again."

I grinned, I liked Hank. Hank Kuntz was a guy who had the same kind of luck with cell phones that I had with cars and he was almost always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Something would go down and Hank would get swept up in the arrests and then later have all charges against him dismissed. The problem with Hank was that he had a crappy memory and he relied heavily on his phone to remember things like his court dates, without his phone, there was no way he was making it to court. He was worth about a hundred bucks to me, but it was an easy $100. Hank just so happened to work as a transvestite prostitute from 8am-3pm during the week. I would find him on his corner after the breakfast rush, smoking a cigarette and drinking a gatorade.

I took my files from Connie and turned to walk to the couch and stopped. "That's new." I said. The couch that was usually parked by the door was a faux leather monstrosity that in hot weather made farting sounds whenever you sat on it. What was in it's place was an enormous pink and black floral sofa that would have looked at home in the 80's… Ugly, but at home.

"Yeah, the sag in the other one was so bad Lula got stuck in it the other day. I had dad haul that out of gran's rumpus room. The thing has spent it's whole life under plastic cushion covers and since grandma is the most boring person in the world, it's basically never been used. It's ugly but I figure we can do a DIY upholstery job on it later.

I had my doubts as to how good we'd be at that but it's not like we could make it look worse. I walked over to the sofa and sank into it. "No donuts?"

"Lula's turn." Connie said.

"Score." I said. When it was Lula's turn to bring donuts she usually came with fried chicken, half the bakery and breakfast sandwiches. I closed my eyes and put my head on the back cushion, "Oh my god this is more comfortable than my bed."

"I know. If it weren't such an eyesore I'd have kept it for myself."

I was seriously tempted to sleep, instead I dropped Hank's file on the seat next to me and looked through the other two.

The file under Hank's belonged to an aging mobster named Mario Gruzzie. He was busted for carrying concealed and probably didn't go to court because in Trenton most of us thought it was a bogus charge. Everyone carried concealed. The cop who arrested him was probably new or from out of town and didn't realize it was a waste of everybody's time. He would likely end up catching more shit from the judge than Gruzzie would.

The third skip was a banker named, Ronnie Jankowitz. Reading through his file, I couldn't for the life of me figure out why Vinnie had bonded him out. Jankowitz was under an SEC investigation for some kind of white collar shenanigans and the stress of the investigation had been compounded by the fact that his wife was having an affair with a landscaper. One day he snapped, stole the keys to the landscaper's Bobcat and drove it into his wife's Mercedes while she and the landscaper were having a nooner in the back seat. Both the wife and boyfriend wound up in the hospital with major injuries. Jankowitz was a serious flight risk and clearly not stable, so the judge set his bail at a million bucks and Vinnie had posted the bond. It wasn't like Vinnie to take such a big risk; there had to be more to it. Like why the hell I was getting the capture papers?

The only reasons an FTA with a bond this high would appear on my radar were if Ranger had passed on it or if they were pretty sure this guy was gone and the cost of giving it to Ranger was just going to put Vinnie in the hole further. If it was because Ranger didn't want it, I'd need to know why. If he passed because the risk to his men outweighed the benefit (for example if Ronnie secretly liked to boil people in acid and Vinnie wasn't willing to cough up the extra hazard pay) then I was probably going to pass too. If Ranger passed because he wasn't going to waste his time on a lost cause, I'd spend an hour on it looking for leads and throw it into my dead file.

"Why did Vinnie bond him out? And better yet, why do I have this?" I asked.

"Vinnie and Ronnie were buddies back when they were in college. So even though Jankowitz practically screamed that he was flight risk, Vinnie bonded him out for old time's sake. Harry is going to be pissed when he finds out and Vinnie doesn't want to lose more money on him by giving the file to Ranger. If we write it off as a lost cause without making at least a token effort to find Jankowitz, Harry will kill Vinnie. " Connie said.

"Harry won't kill Vinnie," I said, "Severely injure, maim or disfigure, maybe."

Harry the Hammer was my cousin Vinnie's father in law and the chief backer of Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. Harry was was old school mafia and earned his name by allegedly using a hammer in inventive ways whenever he had the occasion to be displeased with someone. The only reason Vinnie was still breathing was because, for reasons passing all understanding, Harry's daughter loved my greasy, perverted, weasel of a cousin.

The file on Jankowitz was worryingly thin. Probably because Vinnie figured he already knew the guy, but even still, what I had was ridiculous. All I had was a mugshot, the details of his arrest and an address. Usually Connie provided me with more to go on, "What gives?" I asked.

"Until recently he was an angel so he's got no rap sheet. Anything related to the SEC investigation is classified and beyond what I can get. All I know is that he's got oodles of money hidden offshore somewhere, so he's a fugitive with nearly inexhaustible resources. I've already called his housekeeper and she says his closet is empty. There's no chance you're going to find him but I had to give it to somebody."

The door to The Weasel's inner sanctum opened and Vinnie stuck his head out.

"She'd better be able to find him! You're giving the file to her because she can use Ranger's resources without it costing me extra." Vinnie said. He pointed a finger at me, "It's worth a hundred grand for you. Find him." He slammed the door to his office and I looked at Connie.

"He's right." Connie said, "And if by some chance you do find him, use the money to take a nice long vacation."

Truth was, I was already thinking of running him through Ranger's computers. If it did turn something up and I did find Jankowitz, I'd give Rangeman part of my fee. Which Vinnie also knew.

"I can't believe I'm related to him. He's scum." I said.

"Tell me something I don't know." Connie said and took a swig of coffee. I couldn't resist.

"Ranger sleeps naked." I said. Connie spat her coffee all over her keyboard.

Connie dumped the coffee out of her keyboard and a small electronic listening device fell out, "Well, that took care of that bug." she said. She smashed it with her stapler for good measure and flicked it into the trash.

"You're paying for that!" Vinnie yelled from his office.

"Consider it my fee for using Ranger's servers." I yelled back. The door to Vinnie's office opened again and his hand came out, middle finger extended.

"I'm going to consider that an agreement to my terms." I said and returned Vinnie's salute. I like to think of it as our way of shaking hands. Vinnie slammed his door without another word.

"What's with you today?" Connie asked.

"Nothing." I said.

"You're smiling."

"Am I?" I asked. I hadn't noticed. "I'm just in a good mood I guess."

"Well stop it. We live in Trenton and it's March. It's not normal and you're freaking me out." Connie said.

"Speaking of not normal, where _i_ s Lula? I'm hungry." I said.

"She called me but the connection was crappy and I couldn't make out her excuse for being late today."

Lula was technically supposed to be in charge of all of the filing at the Bonds office, mostly she kept Connie company and rode shotgun with me when she thought I needed a partner. Usually when that happened strange shit like the candy factory also happened. Lula was loud in attitude and dress; she was five foot two and too short for her weight, she had chocolate coloured skin and she liked to test the tensile strength of spandex by wearing bright clothing designed for a much smaller woman.

"Crap. I was sort of hoping she'd come with me to get Gruzzie."

"What you really mean is that you want her to come along because you're going to get cold and bored staking out Gruzzie's social club. Lula has a shorter attention span than you do and she's a good excuse to bail."

She might have been right about that. Plus the man used a cane. I knew from experience that I felt like an idiot when I had to wrestle an old man with a cane. See, old men like Mario Gruzzie didn't like to be brought in by girls because they thought it was bad for their street cred and as a result they were always a pain in the ass. I would bet every last penny I had that he'd resist arrest. They always resisted arrest.

"She's coming, I just have no idea when. Hang here until she does, it's too early to round up Hank anyway." she looked at the street, "Or not."

I didn't need to look to know what she was looking at. I heard Ranger's car pull into the lot and tried to look casual as I stared at my file without actually reading it anymore. Ranger had called during my self imposed exile to make sure I had everything I needed to ride out the storm, but I hadn't seen him since he dropped me off at my parents. It hadn't escaped me that I'd broken a cardinal rule of our relationship by telling him I loved him and the lack of fallout had me waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I was sitting on the side of the sofa closest to the door when Ranger walked in. He briefly touched the back of my neck as he walked by to drop a file on Connie's desk. When he turned to leave, we made eye contact and I felt my body temperature skyrocket.

"Babe?" he gave a slight nod to the door and walked out. I stuffed my files into my shoulder bag and put my coat back on.

"The Chatterbox has summoned; I shouldn't keep him waiting." I said.

"From the way he looked at you just now, I don't think he's got talking on his mind." Connie said, "Anything I should know?"

"Nope." I said.

Ranger was waiting for me in the alley next to the Bonds Office. I know that people think Ranger and I go to the alley to make out without an audience. The real reason is because Vinnie frequently bugs Connie's desk and Ranger doesn't like to be recorded without his permission. The alley was free of bugs of the listening variety and whenever Ranger wanted (which was always when we went back there) video surveillance. He had a gizmo on his key fob that disabled any camera monitored by Rangeman. Anything else was just a bonus, and it didn't happen as frequently as I liked.

When I got to the alley, Ranger snagged me and pushed me up against the wall. His hands pressed against the brick on either side of my head, trapping me. His rock hard thigh was between my legs as he kissed the hell out of me. It was the sort of kiss that pretty much guaranteed you were about to get laid and it was going to rock your world.

He broke the kiss but didn't step back. His dark eyes were filled with straight up lust and I'm pretty sure a few critical pieces of clothing evaporated.

"Either you really needed that or you were exceptionally curious about what I had for breakfast." I said. I was trying to be nonchalant but I wanted him more than I wanted oxygen and he knew it.

"Both." he said with a grin, "You haven't eaten yet."

"I was waiting for Lula to show up with doughnuts."

"I'm buttering you up for a favour; can I buy you breakfast instead?" His tone was offering much more than breakfast if I wanted it. I wanted it.

"I have to do laundry." I managed. He nipped at my lip and it short circuited my brain, "Fuck it, laundry can wait."

Ranger kissed me again and the only thing stopping me from letting him take me up against the Bonds Office wall was the fact that it was cold and the alley was actually pretty nasty. He broke the kiss again; this time he was breathing as hard as I was.

"It actually has to be just breakfast today." He said and I groaned, "I'll be over later."

"Good, because it's cold and if you didn't come over soon you were going to find me pulling a Goldilocks."

"All you needed to do was say something, Babe."

"I'm cold Ranger." I said. The next kiss was so hot that when it ended I was surprised I wasn't smoking. "It's going to be a long day."

Ranger grinned and reluctantly let me down. I smoothed the nail marks from where I'd been clutching at his shirt under his opened Rangeman jacket. I straightened my clothes and followed him to the cars. I climbed into Big Blue and followed Ranger out of the lot to our usual breakfast spot.

I often wondered if Ranger secretly had someone call ahead so that his favourite booth at the back of the busy diner was available when we arrived. Ranger was particular about where he sat. He needed to have a good view of the entire restaurant and if possible, a view of the parking lot. His booth provided both. He was carrying a couple of files when he got out of his car and dropped them onto the bench seat beside him as he sat down. I sat across from him, leaning up against the widow, semi reclined, with no view of the restaurant and not really caring about the parking lot.

Our waitress was called Sandy Grossman. Her father owned the diner, was single and he used to pay me to babysit Sandy whenever he had a date. This used to drive Sandy bananas because she was only three years younger than I was. When you're twelve and eight, it's not such a big deal, but that age difference when you were sixteen and thirteen was just insulting. She started basically running the diner when she was eighteen and waited tables for the breakfast rush every morning. The tips she made put her through business school. Last year she formally took over ownership of the Diner when her father retired to California with his new wife.

When Ranger was in town he brought me here at least once a week, more if he had a job for me and wanted to talk about it over a meal. Sandy was always our waitress so it was a bit strange that when she got a look at Ranger she tripped over her own feet and nearly dumped a pitcher of ice water over another patron. I personally thought he looked exceptionally delicious that day but I was also suffering from a surplus of hormones and one night in Ranger's bed was not nearly enough to satisfy them. In fact it had sort of made things worse. Given Sandy's reaction to him, my lust goggles weren't as biased as I thought they were.

He was either oblivious to the effect he was having or used to it because he didn't acknowledge it. I had to, because Sandy was in a sort of trance staring at him and I was starving. I snapped my fingers in front of her face and she blinked like she'd just been woken up from a hypnotic state and didn't remember a thing. She calmly asked us for our drink orders as usual and offered us menus she knew we didn't need.

"Vegetarian, egg white omelette; wheat toast, no butter and a glass of water." Ranger said. She didn't bother to write it down, it's what he always ordered. I liked to switch it up so she had her pen ready for me.

"I want the tall stack of pancakes, a double order of breakfast sausage, bacon, home fries, toast, scrambled eggs, a strawberry milk shake and a piece of chocolate cake to start." I said, "Oh and the biggest coffee you can find."

She scribbled furiously on her pad and left to put our orders in. She immediately came back with our drinks and my cake. Ranger let me savour the first few bites of before he spoke.

"That's a lot of food, even for you Babe." he said.

"Afraid you're going to be tempted away from your boring breakfast?"

"I'm worried about your blood sugar." he said. I wasn't, my pancreas was a game day player.

"I'm going to be busy today, don't know if I'll get to eat lunch." I said.

"You're doing laundry at your mothers; I'm fairly confident she'll feed you." Ranger said.

"Nope, I'm dropping my laundry off and then I'm picking up Lula…"

"Then you'll eat lunch twice." Ranger said, "She eats like a hobbit."

"Points to you for knowing about hobbits!" I said and applauded him. He thought about smiling, "For your information Lula and I are staking out Mario Gruzzie's social club today after I pick up Hank. Lula might be willing to chance the delis around there, but I'm not." Lula could and would eat anything. Her weight rarely fluctuated and she had the constitution of a garbage disposal. I'm pretty sure things like salmonella and listeria just give up when faced with her stomach gasses. The only thing that ever upset her stomach was nerves.

"Babe." he said. Babe covered a lot of ground for Ranger, it could mean anything from "I'm going to drag you to the nearest bed so I can do things to you that your mother has never even heard of" or it could be an expression of disbelief or it could mean I was pissing him off. At that moment I was pretty sure he found me amusing. Actually, come to think of it, that was it! That's why he looked different! Ranger was in a good mood. He wasn't smiling or anything, he was just projecting a general air of contentment and it looked really, really good on him.

"What's this favour?" I asked and took another bite of cake.

"I need a fiancée." He said casually. All of the saliva in my mouth evaporated and the cake frosting stuck to the roof of my mouth like glue. I started coughing and Ranger slid his glass of water across the table. I took a big gulp to wash down the cake.

"Want to run that by me again?" I asked weakly as I wiped the tears from my eyes.

"I need a fiancee." He repeated, his look was one of pure entertainment now. He totally waited until I had my mouth full before he said that. I couldn't actually be mad at him considering I'd just done basically the same thing to Connie.

"As far as proposals go, there have been better." I said, "I'm going to have to see the ring before I decide and you better not have cheaped out on me."

"Smart ass." he said, grinning, "The arrangement would be temporary."

"Most engagements are." I said. This got a silent chuckle out of him before he continued.

"Rangeman has been contracted to conduct an investigation into a series of break ins."

"In New Jersey?" I asked, sliding his water back to him and taking a sip of my coffee.

"No, it's a resort called Reef Knot, located in the Keys about an hour from Miami." Ranger said.

I grinned, "This is going to be like Hawaii isn't it?"

A while ago I took a solo vacation to Hawaii and while I was sunning myself on the beach I spotted a skip that Ranger had been looking for, forever. I didn't have any equipment or papers to bring him in so I called Ranger and followed the skip and his wife to a couples only resort. Ranger and I posed as husband and wife to get in and maybe it was the weather or maybe because it was a handy excuse, but we didn't exactly put our backs into finding the skip and ended up losing him. Weirdly, neither of us actually cared much. Well, that is until Morelli showed up and I ended up breaking up a fight by zapping them both in the ass with a stun gun. I tried to block that part.

"I'm not going to deny that there will be certain perks associated with this job." He said.

Ranger handed me one the folders. I opened it and read some of the contents while I waited for the rest of my breakfast to arrive.

Reef Knot was a hybrid between a resort, a country club and a gated community. The land was owned by a zillionaire developer named Roman Chase who wanted a place to take his family without having to worry about pesky things like crime, obnoxious tourists or neighbours he might find annoying.

The community included a luxury spa, a gym, a small retail district filled with designer boutiques, a fancy grocery store, a hospital, an airport capable of taking a G8 jet, a marina capable of taking yachts up to 200 feet long and a school that took any student from Pre Kindergarten to High School Senior.

To maintain maximum control over who lived in Reef Knot, Chase set up a system that prevented outsiders from simply buying property in the community. Instead he offered fifty year leases to a select few.

When these properties were snapped up, never one to miss an opportunity to make more money, Chase built a luxury resort hotel on the property as well as several houses that were for short term rental purposes only. Rather than spend his entire life being inundated with requests by people wishing to visit his property, Chase founded the Reef Knot Yacht Club and with it, appointed a membership approval committee. If you wanted to stay at the hotel or rent one of the houses, you had to be an RKYC member. It was seriously exclusive and the criteria for becoming a member was listed in a little book that was about fifty pages thick. Only Chase could approve the fifty year leases, and the waiting list for them was a mile long.

Over the last three weeks a series of nuisance break ins had been occurring in the neighbourhood. Chase's biggest concern was that whoever was doing it was bypassing security without leaving a trace. Rangeman was being contracted to investigate these break-ins and to conduct an audit of it's current security setup.

"It's probably an inside job." I said, "I saw something like it on Criminal Minds once; this guy had a universal garage door opener and was getting into the houses that way." Our breakfast arrived so I closed the file and dove in.

"An inside job does seem most likely but there is a transient population of about 4000. It's a big list of suspects."

"So why are we investigating and not the police?" I asked.

"Chase wants to keep things quiet and the residents affected would like to see the culprit apprehended without the hassle of an invasive police investigation. Security has done some minor forensics, dusted for fingerprints, taken pictures, taken statements, but they are out of their depth."

"What do you need me for? Besides the fact that it's an excuse to see me in a bathing suit."

"Since Chase wants the investigation conducted without the knowledge of the other residents, he wants me to move into one of the houses and pose as a new tennant."

"So what's the problem?"

"Besides the fact that it's not really my demographic? Chase is concerned that the neighbours might be uncomfortable with the fact that I look like an unmarried, ex-special forces commando with former gang affiliations."

"You are an unmarried, ex-special forces commando with former gang affiliations." I said, "I don't think you could pass for an accountant."

"Which is why he said it would be helpful if I was married to someone nonthreatening." Ranger said.

"Not that it matters, but if that's the case why are you asking me to be your fiancee and not your wife?" I asked.

"Chase is the kind of guy who would look into that sort of thing and marriage records are public. Which is why I told him that I had a fiancee. He wanted proof so I showed him a picture of us."

"Presumptuous of you." I said.

"Not really." Ranger said. We both knew I was on board the moment he said he needed a favour. "I've already told Chase who you are and what you do. I said I'd see if you were equal to moving to Florida for what could be a couple of days to a couple of months depending on what kind of leads we get."

"What does this job entail exactly?"

"The primary objective is to find the holes in the security so we can plug them. Since we have to do it without the knowledge of the rest of the community, we'll have to use unconventional means to do it. What that means exactly, we won't find out until we get there and can assess the mood of the neighbourhood."

"What about catching the bad guy?"

"It's a secondary objective." Ranger said, "We'll investigate, but Chase is more concerned about the breach."

"I'm not objecting, I'm totally game. I just find it hard to believe that you don't know someone more qualified than me."

"And you want to know if the reason I'm asking for your help is simply because I had your picture handy." He said and I nodded, "I'm hiring you for two reasons. The first reason is because you've got excellent investigative instincts and this is the sort of thing you're good at."

"And the second?" I asked.

"You want me bad." He smirked, "Your body language practically screams it."

"Ranger, every woman in this room wants you." I said dryly.

"You're different, Babe." He said and took a sip of his water as he leaned back in his seat, "Most women want me because they are looking for the thrill of being in bed with someone who is clearly dangerous. You want me because you love me and it shows."

"I knew telling you that would come back to bite me in the ass." I said. He laughed outright.

"I wouldn't worry about it; the feelings are mutual Babe." Ranger said.

"When are we supposed to start?" I asked. I was playing it pretty cool I thought, considering that was probably the closest I'd actually ever get to a declaration of love from the man in black. Still, I'm pretty sure that if I looked at my reflection at that moment, I was probably smiling again.

"I'd like to leave tomorrow." he said.

It was Wednesday. I grabbed my shoulder bag and pulled out the files inside. If I could bring in the two who weren't in the wind, and I did it today, that would make up the rest of my rent for the month.

"Can we leave Friday? Let me pick up these two and make arrangements for Rex."

"I can push it to Friday." he said. He shifted in his seat. and reached into his pocket; I assumed it was to get out his wallet to pay for breakfast. What he actually retrieved was a small black ring box with a double hinge that was held closed by a snap. He slid the box across the table, "You're going to need that."

With slightly shaky fingers I released the snap and opened the box. "Holy Crap!" I said and looked up at him. He was grinning as he took it back from me and pulled out the ring. It was a platinum pave band with a two karat diamond held in a tension setting. He picked up my left hand and slid the ring on to my finger.

"What do you say, Stephanie Plum? Will you marry me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I'm loving all of the reviews! As always everything familiar belongs to JE.**

Part of me wanted to deck him for that, another part of me wished it was real, a third part of me was scared shitless by the second part of me. The diner went instantly silent and I saw about fifty phones being whipped out to take pictures. The news would be all over Trenton in about ten minutes. Bravely, I shut my phone off and wolfed down the rest of my breakfast so I could bolt. Ranger was smirking at me the whole time. "You're giving me an ass cramp." I said and felt my eye begin to twitch, "You knew that would happen."

"I did." he said, "I like to keep your life interesting. And you haven't given me an answer."

"Ass. Cramp. Yes I'll marry you." I rolled my eyes hard and then it dawned on me, "Oh God, Joe's going to lose his mind."

"Probably." Ranger shrugged, "Just tell him the truth and avoid Bella until we leave." Bella was Joe's insane grandmother. She claimed that she had the eye and she liked to put curses on me whenever I pissed her off, which was pretty much always. I was only semi certain that her curses weren't real. She once told me that she was going to make me marry Joe by putting a curse on me that would counteract my birth control. Two weeks later my period was late and I couldn't button my jeans anymore. I damn near had a heart attack. Turns out I wasn't pregnant, just stressed and my stress eating was the reason I couldn't button my jeans.

Ranger stood up and dropped some cash on the table, "I'll be over later tonight."

"Bring dinner." I grumbled.

"Don't be mad." Ranger bent to kiss the top of my head and whispered, "I didn't cheap out on the ring."

I couldn't help it, I laughed "You're such a jerk."

When he left, conversation instantly resumed and I knew there was only one thing they were talking about. I blew out another sigh. It was going to be a long day. I put the ring box into my pocket and stood up. The part of me who knew the kind of insanity that Ranger's little stunt was going to cause, wanted to say 'Fuck it' and tell Ranger I wanted to leave immediately. The part of me that didn't want to be homeless knew I had to tough it out in order to pay rent.

"You can do this Stephanie." I whispered to myself, "Maybe it won't be that bad."

Yeah sure it wasn't going to be that bad. I was going to be under the same scrutiny as a Kardashian if I went anywhere near the Burg. Wisdom stated that I should just avoid the Chambersburg section of Trenton where I grew up. Unfortunately wisdom isn't exactly my strong suit. Besides my mother was probably having a stroke and my grandmother was going to be egging her on. I could call and tell her what was going on, but the phone was probably unplugged and Grandma was too deaf to hear her cell phone. I sighed again. With all the extra oxygen I was taking in so I could sigh, my lungs were getting a workout and my heart was probably happy. The diner went quiet again when I stood up. I gave them an awkward wave and practically sprinted for my car.

There is an instinct that Burg women are born with, a strong maternal pull to know when a child is returning to the nest. This instinct led mothers to stand by front doors to welcome a child home even if they had no prior knowledge that said child was planning to visit. Every time I came home, if mom or grandma was home, one or both of them would be waiting for me at the front door. When I pulled up in front of my parents' house ten minutes later and saw that my mother's was car in the driveway but nobody was at the door I wondered for a second if in my flustered state, I had driven down the wrong street. Then I realized that my grandmother was actually at the bottom step jumping up and down like a school girl.

My grandma was eighty something years old and didn't look a day older than one hundred and four. She was small, looked a bit like a boiled soup chicken and might have given the impression of frailty if it weren't for the fact that she dressed like a twenty year old and had the mentality and curiosity of a thirteen year old boy. When my grandpa Mazur died and grandma moved in with my parents, she realized that she had a freedom she'd never had before. She was bound and determined to enjoy every second of this freedom and she didn't give a hoot what anyone thought. She was not so slowly unhinging both of my parents and I secretly I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.

Today she was wearing a pair of purple velvet track pants that had the word 'Juicy' stamped out in rhinestones across her boney ass, she'd paired it with a matching zip up hoodie and a t-shirt that I bought on a trip to Atlantic City with my friend Diesel a million years ago. On me the shirt looked slutty; on grandma you could tell that gravity hadn't been kind to her and she needed to roll the girls into a better bra. She had no coat on and she was still wearing her bunny slippers, clearly too excited to realize it was winter still.

I turned off the ignition and put my forehead on the steering wheel. Yeah any hope I had that my parents hadn't found out yet, misguided as that hope was, was shot to hell and it probably meant that there was absolutely zero chance that I was going to be the first one to tell Joe. My eye was already twitching again. I mentally hiked up my big girl panties, cursed Ranger and got out of the car to face the music.

My grandmother hurried to my car and squeezed me in an exuberant hug. She grabbed my hand and let out a girlish squeal and jumped up and down on the spot. If she wasn't careful she was going to slip on some ice and break a hip.

"That's a pip of a ring! Can I take a picture of it? My phone is blowing up with people asking me about the ring." grandma said. I mentally cursed Ranger again and held my hand steady so she could take the picture. If anybody looked me up on social media, the engagement would look legit.

"Your mother is ironing paper towels and she disconnected the phone five minutes after the first tweet hit my Twitter feed." Grandma said. In times of stress, I ate doughnuts. My mother on the other hand, if the sun was over the yardarm, hit a bottle of Wild Turkey she kept stashed in her baking cupboard; otherwise, she ironed. She ironed everything. That she was already on to paper towels probably meant she'd done most of her ironing after the Dip incident and she was desperate.

I saw curtains twitch on the other half of my parent's duplex and knew that in ten seconds, everybody in New Jersey would know I was at my mom and dad's house. Sure enough other curtains started to twitch all down the street, one by one like dominos falling as some ancient telephone tree was activated.

"Crap." I said and ushered my grandmother back into the house.

Sure enough we found my mother in the kitchen where she was ironing and starching a roll of Bounty, sheet by sheet. I was actually impressed by her ironing skills; if I tried that I'd set the kitchen on fire. I helped myself to some milk and sat in my usual place at the kitchen table. There was a plate of my grandmother's fresh cookies on the table, still warm from the oven and I picked one up and broke it in half. Mom would need a minute to formulate her rant. She wouldn't be able to hear the truth until she got what she needed to say off of her chest. I dipped half of the cookie into my milk and then popped it into my mouth. I'd just finished swallowing when she slammed the iron down with enough force that I was amazed the ironing board didn't flip over, catapulting her perfect stack of horny paper towels.

"One month ago," She held up one finger, "One month! I asked you how things were with Joseph and you told me, YOU. TOLD. ME. that everything was fine. That he'd brought up marriage again but you weren't ready. Neither of you were ready. I don't know what there is to be ready for, you've practically been living together for years now, but noooooo you can't marry Joseph, a man who loves you, has a normal job, a house, and comes from a good Italian family. You can't do that because you aren't ready… and suddenly I'm sitting here with my phone unplugged for the second time in a week because of you and it's because you're engaged to this Ranger person."

"You've met him more than once, mom. It's not like he's a stranger." I said.

"I like Ranger, I wouldn't have you still if it weren't for Ranger. I'm grateful to him for saving your life a thousand times, but I know nothing about him. People are asking me how long you have been together, saying how in love you are and I see the pictures and I can see it in the way he looks at you and I'm hurt that you haven't told me that you're serious enough about him that you want to marry him. I'm sitting here trying to figure out what kind of wedding this is going to be and I don't know anything about him except that he drives German cars and he actually likes salad."

"Hey, that's more than most people know about him." I said.

"Well were is he from? What's his real name? What is his religion? If he's not Catholic is he willing to have a Catholic wedding? How big is his family? Will they come to the wedding? Are his parents still living and if they are, where do they live? We're going to have to meet them before the wedding. At least with Joseph I know his family and I know what to expect from them. I know how involved Angie would want to be if you married Joseph. I know nothing about Ranger's mother, but I'm willing to bet she's going to be so thrilled her son is willing to settle down that she's going to want to be as involved as possible. And kids! You're going to have kids, I'm going to have to get a bigger table, it's already a mad house in here. And where are you going to live? You can't live in your apartment and apartments are no place to put a family, which means we're going to have to find you a house, and we know that's going to fall on me, because you're the least domestic person ever and Ranger is always rushing off to do whatever it is that he does." Mom's voice trailed off as she finally ran out of air and she flopped down in her chair.

I slid the plate of cookies in her direction and she put a finger on each of her eyelids to stop a very visible twitch from continuing. Huh, turns out it's a family trait.

"Mom, you don't need to worry about that stuff. There isn't going to be a wedding." I said. That just made the twitch worse. Her whole face spasmed as though that thought was simply not able to compute.

"Why not?" She asked.

"Oh I know why." Grandma piped up, "She's in one of them modern relationships. The ring just says they are in a commitment but they aren't going to go through with the antiqued institution of marriage." My mother turned green and stared at me in utter dismay.

"I think you mean antiquated." I said to Grandma, "And that's not it. Ranger asked me to pose as his fiancee for a job. We'll be going away together for a few weeks and when we come back we'll tell everybody the truth. For now, it works for us that everybody thinks that it's real, but it's just a job."

"It doesn't look fake." Grandma said, "You're trending on Twitter and my Instagram is going nuts."

"What?" I said. She pulled out her iPhone and opened her Instagram and showed me. There we were in every possible filter from about a dozen sources. Me opening the ring box looking totally shocked while Ranger smiled smugly across from me. Ranger putting the ring on my hand while I continued to sit there stunned. Ranger looking affectionate while he kissed my hair and me smiling looking like I was overcome with emotion.

"Oh boy." I said for the fiftieth time that day, "He gave me the ring in the diner because he was being an ass. It surprised me a bit, and he made me laugh."

I took the phone from grandma and looked at the pictures again. Ranger was right, it looked right and it was because we loved each other. Shit. I secretly sent a couple of the pictures to myself so I could print them later for the house in Florida to add some authenticity to the role. _Yeah, that's why you're doing it Stephanie. You keep telling yourself that's why you're doing it. It has nothing to do with the fact that more of you than you would like to admit is wishing it was real._ The thought made me reach for another cookie.

The idea of marriage scared the bejeezus out of me. Marriage to Ranger especially so because, first of all, it wasn't a possibility. As he'd told me a billion times, Ranger's life didn't lend itself to relationships. The second reason was because I knew that if he asked me for real I'd say 'yes' without thinking. Since Ranger's anti commitment was practically a commandment, thinking about the second reason caused a giant pit of unhappy to form in my stomach. A void I hoped to fill with cookies.

"Well what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?" mom asked.

"I don't know." I said.

"Well she can't tell everybody that it's fake. It'll be all over social media and it'll blow her cover." Grandma said. My mother looked like she needed to process that for a minute. It was hard to say if she was relieved or upset by the news.

"I have to tell Joe the truth." I said. Grandma nodded and we looked at my mom for her input. Mom didn't answer because she was too busy staring at the plate of cookies as if they held the answers to the universe. When she didn't blink for longer than I thought was healthy, I decided that there was no time like the present and fished my phone out of my pocket to call Morelli.

I powered it up and immediately threw it onto the table in fear. It wash making an alarming series of schizophrenic sounds as it tried to produce multiple text alerts, email alerts, missed call alerts and voicemail alerts all at the same time. I quickly put the phone under a place mat and pushed it to the centre of the table with my finger and then we all pushed our chairs out of the way as we braced for the news of my engagement to literally blow up my phone. It made one last feeble sound resembling a muffled burp and then went silent. I opened one eye and when I saw that the placemat wasn't smoking, I carefully uncovered the phone. My iPhone had crashed and was rebooting itself. When it started back up, it made a noise that sounded like Bob as he regurgitated a sock and then the screen froze. I couldn't even turn the phone off.

"That's going to be a problem." I said.

"You're grandmother is right. I'll think of something, just…Tell me about Ranger." mom said this as if she hadn't spent two full minutes staring at a plate of cookies without blinking or that we weren't all momentarily concerned that the rise of the machines was about to take place on her kitchen table. My grandmother eyed the cupboard, probably wondering if mom had finally been driven to day drinking.

"His name is Ricardo Carlos Manoso," I said slowly, sharing my grandmother's concern. Either my mom was drinking or she'd had a mini stroke. She was too calm as she stared at me, patiently waiting for more. "He's non practicing Catholic, Cuban American, has three sisters and a brother, a daughter named Julie, an ex-wife named Rachel and his family are mostly in Miami and Newark. I honestly don't know how much more he would be comfortable with me sharing." I certainly wasn't about to tell her that the last time we spent the night together, I was pretty sure he made me see God.

"That's enough, the rest should be easy. There are enough rumours about you two that people will fill in the blanks themselves." My mother said. She looked at the ring on my left hand, "It's too bad you'll be giving it back; it suits you. He has good taste."

She reached for a cookie and we were both surprised to see that the plate was empty. When the hell had we eaten the rest of them? Grandma went to the fridge and produced some leftover pineapple upside down cake and some forks. Grandma had the right philosophy, the family that stress eats together, sticks together.

We polished off the cake, I cleared the table and mom began disassembling the ironing board. That action reminded me that I actually came here to do laundry so I grabbed my keys off of the counter and jogged out to the street to get my laundry bag from the back of the car.

I'd just closed the backdoor of the Buick when I heard the sounds of an engine revving and then the squeal of tires as a green Jeep came barreling around the corner and skidded an attempt to a stop in front of the house. I jumped back moments before it clipped the back end of the Buick and jump up on the curb, coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. I looked at the front end of the Jeep and winced, it was going to need some serious body work. The Buick was fine, the paint wasn't even scratched. That wasn't going to do anything to diffuse the six feet of pissed off Italian American male that was cursing as he tried repeatedly to get out of the car.

First he tried to open the door but forgot the locks were engaged. Then when he realized this and managed to unlock the Jeep he discovered that the collision had jammed the door, so he had to throw himself into it to get the door to open. Then he forgot he was wearing his seatbelt and he was yanked back like a dog on a leash. I would have found it funny except for the fact that Joe was usually pretty cool, the famous Morelli temper held firmly in check. Sure we had arguments that were punctuated with lots of cursing but those were healthy and we usually reconciled after a brief cooling down period. This however was a whole new level of pissed off.

He finally managed to get out of the Jeep and stood in front of me. He looked like he was about to say something, but I beat him to it.

"Would you believe that it's not what you think?" I said lamely, bracing myself for his verbal explosion the way I had prepared for the phone blowing up. Like the phone there was nothing, only this time when I opened my eyes warily, I really wished I hadn't. Joe was doing something that no Morelli had ever accomplished. He was so pissed off he couldn't speak. Hell, he couldn't even produce sound.

"I was going to call you." Shit, that was lamer than the first thing that came out of my mouth. It was hard to tell if that was the right thing or the wrong thing to say because it's what allowed Joe to regain a the ability to form a semi-coherent sentences.

"That's what you have to say? You were going to call me? You were going to call me!? How exactly do you think you were going to accomplish that? I had to shut down my phone! I've had no less than fifteen calls in twenty minutes. I've seen that damned picture of him kissing you in about thirty different emails with every fucking filter imaginable!"

"Hey that's better than me. My phone got possessed and then died." Stupid Stephanie said. Joe turned purple. Not a good look for a man with an olive complexion.

"Okay, why don't you come inside before you have an aneurysm and we'll talk once you've had a chance to calm down." I said, looking around nervously. The neighbours had decided, 'fuck peeping through the curtains' and were now blatantly standing in their yards watching this go down with the same morbid fascination that was usually reserved for train wrecks.

"You want me to come inside so I can calm down?" Joe incredulously, his voice was too quiet and I didn't realize his eyebrows could go that high, "I WILL NOT FUCKING CALM DOWN! MY GIRLFRIEND IS ENGAGED TO A SOCIOPATH WHO ISN'T ME!" There we go, that was the volume I was expecting. Probably it wouldn't be smart to point out that he just called himself a sociopath.

"He's not a sociopath. He's just pragmatic and follows his own rules." I said. See the thing about me is that when I'm upset, I can't really shut up and I just say whatever pops into my head. It's not usually the most useful defence mechanism as it has a tendency to escalate things. That I defended Ranger instead of denying my relationship with him was sort of the exact wrong thing to do.

What Joe said next doesn't bear repeating, was mostly justified, not at all that coherent, and part of it was in Italian so I didn't follow it all that well, but I got the gist. Suffice it to say, it wasn't exactly complimentary. I let him burn himself out and I bit down hard on my tongue to stop myself from lashing out in an equally scathing commentary on our relationship. I loved Joe and I hurt him and while what he was saying was pissing me off, I knew he'd be regretting it in the morning so I kept myself in check. That is until his tirade went from an unflattering description of my conduct and person and reverted back to Ranger.

"You know he's only doing this because he's trying to make himself more respectable, right? He's using you." Actually he hit the nail on the head there. That Ranger was using me with my permission made it so it wasn't a painful thing to consider, "That's all this is. If you think he loves you, you're wrong. Guys like him, they don't love women, they use them and throw them away, and that's what he's going to do Stephanie. He's going to leave you when he's got whatever he needs from you."

"You know what Joe? You're totally right" I snapped, "Yeah, guys like him can't possibly love a screw up like me. They just jump off bridges into frigid water or walk into a room with a man who wants to kill them because the girl they're using is in danger. They nearly die taking bullets so she doesn't have to because that's what users are known for, their fucking altruism."

"And I haven't been through a lot for you?" Joe yelled.

"Yeah, and you make sure you let me know just how hard it is for you. You make sure you point out how big of a screw up I am. He genuinely wants what's best for me, even if it means he loses. That's why he always…" I snapped my mouth shut before I finished that thought.

We did not want to go there. Joe didn't need to know that every time we broke up and Ranger and I got together, he always sent me back to Joe because he thinks it's safer for me, better for me to be with someone more traditional, someone more like Morel…

You know how in movies when something big happens and the hero has an epiphany and there's the sound effect of a record coming to a scratching halt; the soundtrack stops and everything around them freezes for a split second while they process what they just figured out? That happened, though the record sound was probably just in my head and time probably didn't actually stop.

The first time Ranger and I had sex, I was pretty sure it was because he was hoping to scratch an itch where I was concerned. Joe and I were in an off phase, Ranger came over, told me that we were going to have sex and it was going to be good. We did and it was. Then he told me that I should fix things with Joe because Morelli was better for me than he was. Then he told me he was an opportunist and wasn't above applying pressure in order to create those opportunities. After that Ranger teased, flirted, and essentially drove me crazy until my doodah overrode my conscience and I fell into his bed again. After every time we slept together there was some kind of conversation reminding me that we couldn't have a relationship. Every time but the last time. The last time he didn't send me back to Joe.

The last time, there had been no pressure, no slow burn until we couldn't take it anymore. The last time we'd just made love and afterwards he asked me to stay and I was too fucking thick to realize that's what he was saying. Except maybe on a subconscious level and that's probably why I was in a good mood. "I said I'd take you home after I fed you. I never said after which meal."

"Oh my God, I'm a fucking idiot." I said slowly. "Holy shit. I… I just…I'm sorry Joe, but Ranger and I love each other. The rest of it? Just details."

"So everything we have together is over, just like that?" Joe said in painful disbelief.

I hated that I was hurting him, I hated it that I could see it on his face. I loved him but I realized then that it wasn't enough. With Joe, the rest wasn't just details. He wanted things from me that I wasn't sure I could ever give him. With Ranger, I was willing to fight for what we had. Even if it meant that all we had was a mutual acknowledgement of love, a deep friendship and occasional mind blowing sex.

"Not just like that, Joe. We both know it's been over for a long time, it's just that neither of us has been willing to admit it." I said, "Neither of us is willing to fight for it."

"What the hell do you think I'm doing here Stephanie!?" Joe yelled.

"You're here because of your pride." I said, "You're angry because you lost. If we loved each other as much as we've been saying we do, we'd make an effort to see each other and we don't. It should bother me that you don't tell me when you're leaving anymore but it doesn't. You should want to tell me, but I bet you don't even think about it. You know I'm right, you know that if this was real between us, Ranger would never have been a problem. We've been together for so long because it's easy…ish."

He smiled sadly in agreement at the 'ish'

Joe and I looked at each other for a long time. I could see defeat in his eyes, it made me sad, but I had just realized that I could never go back to him. That while my engagement with Ranger was fake, and the way things were between us probably temporary, this break up was real and it was permanent. I felt a stab of pain as that realization struck home and I felt tears prick my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Joe." I said past the lump in my throat.

"Cupcake." Joe said quietly,he wiped a tear off of my cheek the fight gone, his own eyes damp. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek and then stepped back. I jumped about a foot in the air when I felt Ranger's hand on the back of my neck.

"Babe." he said. I reflexively leaned into him for support and with that action I saw the finality of us register in Joe's eyes. My mother had come out along with everyone else and she quietly walked up to Joe and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come inside Joseph." she said, her voice laced with motherly sympathy. She liked Joe, she thought he was a credit to his family and she was friends with his mother; it was her duty to take care of him. Joe looked like he was going to protest but she gave him a look that triggered an instinct of obedience that was as strong in Burg children as the child homing instinct inherent in all Burg mothers. She handed me my purse and then steered Joe towards the house.

Ranger had traded the Turbo for the Cayenne and helped me climb up and into the SUV. He got into the car and gave me half a glance to make sure I was wearing my seatbelt, flicked on my seat warmer, engaged his own seatbelt and then hit the ignition button. He didn't say anything. I'd like to think that it was because he knew I just needed time, and maybe he did, but mostly that's just how Ranger drives. He didn't have a destination in mind, he was just driving because in the car we were away from any scrutiny and that was what I needed more than anything else.

"How long were you standing there?" I asked after we'd been on the freeway for about half an hour.

"A while." he said.

"What did you hear?" I asked.

"The truth." Ranger said. He was quiet for a long time and then he said, "You don't know how much I wish I could be the sort of man you need, Stephanie."

"You're already the kind of man I need, our relationship is the kind of relationship I want and I don't give a shit if you're bad for me." I snapped, "I don't need your bullshit right now Ranger, so just don't even start."

Ranger chuckled softly and shook his head ruefully, "And that's why I can't stay away from you." I tried to glare at him but it didn't take. I'd started smiling again. He picked my hand up off of my lap and kissed it. He held my hand for a long time while he drove down the freeway. He didn't let it go until he came to the next off ramp and left the freeway and started heading back towards Trenton. I just stared out of the window until we got closer to town and Ranger gave my knee a squeeze.

"Who are you after today?" he asked.

"Ronnie Jenkowitz, Hank Kuntz and Mario Gruzzie." I said, "I thought I'd start with Hank, he'll be on his corner. Then I thought I'd go after Gruzzie because Connie says he'll be at his social club. If I manage to round them both up in one day, I'll get started on Jankowitz."

"Jankowitz is probably in Brazil." Ranger said.

"I know, but I have to do some research on the off chance you're wrong and by some miracle of stupidity he's still in New Jersey."

Ranger snorted and I stuck my tongue out at him. "Vinnie only gave him to me because he knows you'll help me and he won't have to pay you for it. I'm sorry to say that I'm not against shamelessly using you for your resources if it means a hundred grand finds it's way into my bank account."

"Mi casa." he said. He had his phone in a cradle on the dash, he punched in a number and the blue tooth picked up.

The phone rang twice over the speakers before it was answered.

"Hey, Boss." A man's voice said.

"Look up Ronnie Jankowitz, contact the right people and see if he's been looking into alternate papers or transport out of the country." Ranger said.

"Call you back in an hour." the voice said. Ranger hung up the phone and turned down Stark.

It took us all of five minutes to find Hank. Hank was about six foot four and thanks to a hardcore pilates addiction, two hundred pounds of seriously lean muscle that made me question whether or not he was actually two hundred pounds. Rumour had it that half his weight was in his skirt. He was racially ambiguous, his skin a soft cinnamon tan, he had a brilliant green fro, which he'd matched to his skirt and his lipstick. He wasn't the first transvestite of my acquaintance but he was definitely the prettiest, today in a weird sixties mod kind of way, with his white leather go go boots, leather mini dress and white fur coat. Ranger pulled up to the curb and Hank came over to lean suggestively on the car; the tinted windows of the Porsche obscuring the fact that his bond enforcement agent was picking him up and not some John.

I hit the button for the electric windows and when he saw that it was me, his smile went from flirtatious to genuine pleasure.

"Hey girl," Hank said in an effeminate falsetto.

"Hey," I said, "Got stripped for parts in the hospital parking lot."

"Eaten by a John's pet alligator." Hank said and we shared a grin. Hank and I once spent three hours in a courthouse comparing disaster stories while we waited for Hank to get re-bonded. Now whenever we saw each other, if I was driving something new, which was always, we greeted each other with our latest disasters.

"That's a good one." I said, "That sounds like something that would happen to me."

"I'd be fucking impressed if an Alligator ate your car." Hank said. He pulled out a 1990's flip phone that was the Big Blue of the cell phone world. He made a call to his girlfriend letting her know he was going to be home late and hung up.

"Alright, tell me, how long have I been on the lam?" Hank asked.

"Not long, only since yesterday." I said.

"Fuck." he said, "Oh well, business is slow today and it's too fucking cold to stand around here for nothing."

"Yup." I said, "Hop in the back." I hit the door locks and he angled himself in. Ranger put the car into gear and pulled a u-turn.

"On the bright side it gives me a chance to catch up with my favourite bounty hunter. How are things with the Cop?" Hank asked.

"It's probably on Facebook and it's complicated." I said, "But it's over."

"Are you sure? It's been over before." Hank said. I glanced at Ranger who seemed completely focused on the road.

"Positive." I said. "He might think there is a chance still, but I'm done."

"Good for you. I told you it was time. What you really need, Miss Plum, is a man who will fuck you senseless when you need it (which is often, by the way; you're very tightly wound, sweetheart) and you need someone to get into your head and remind you that you're not the train wreck you think you are." He eyed Ranger like he was lunch, "He'd do."

Ranger cut his eyes to me and looked like he was thinking about smiling. I rolled my eyes and laughed softly. Yeah, he'd definitely do. It was about time we both realized it too.

Vinnie was at the courthouse when we got there so we got Hank re-bonded and took him back to his corner. I promised that someone would be there to pick him up for his next court date, and then Ranger took me back to the Bonds Office so I could get my cheque from Connie. He opted to wait in the car while I did my thing. Chicken.

I was pleasantly surprised when they didn't jump all over me the second I walked in the door. In fact Lula looked bored. I casually slipped my left hand in my pocket, thinking I might slip the ring back to Ranger until I actually needed it. I was also thinking that I would do that when the outside temperatures we were having reached hell.

"I'm going after Gruzzie, are you coming?" I asked Lula.

"I thought you was riding with Batman today, Connie says you've been gone with him all day."

"Nope, he just wanted to talk about a job and then he came with me to pick up Hank," I said, "Big Blue is at my mom's so if you want to drive me over we can pick it up."

"Nah, we'll take my car." Lula drove a pristine, candy apple red Firebird that I think she loved more than family. I dropped my bag on the sofa and went back out to tell Ranger I was set for the rest of the day.

"I heard back from Roderiguez." he said when I got to him.

"That was Roderiguez? I thought he was a myth and that those searches were just the guys messing with me."

I periodically worked for Ranger when things got tight, one of the things he always had me do were these endless background checks. The people we looked into were either bad guys Ranger and his Merry Men were going to round up, or they were standard employment related background checks that Rangeman had been contracted to conduct. My job was to sit in a cube, run these searches and prepare reports for anyone in the company who asked for them. Every time I left my desk, even for a minute, Rodriguez put twenty more research requests into my inbox.

"You're good at them." Ranger said with a shrug.

"It was ass numbingly boring." I said.

"Why do you think he kept giving them to you? He's been begging me to get you to come back." He said, the corner of his mouth tilted up in a slight smile.

"Funny guy." I said and poked him in the chest, "What did he say?"

"A guy of Jankowitz's description bought himself a new passport under the name Mickey Marsterson. And Mickey just bought himself a plane ticket to Peru. He left yesterday morning."

"So close." I snapped my fingers, "Brazil, Peru, you weren't far off. Don't worry, I doubt your instincts are failing you, he probably just wanted to check out Machu Picchu before he moves on to Brazil."

He snagged me by the belt loop of my jeans and pulled me close. He tilted my chin up and he kissed me right there in the parking lot, in full view of everyone, and it wasn't just for show. It was because he wanted to. The kiss ended and he folded me in his arms, the hug protective and comforting at the same time.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"Yeah. It was time." I pulled back a little so I could look up at him, "You know I'm not expecting anything right? That this had to happen and I mean it, it doesn't have to change things between us."

"I know." He said and nodded towards the bonds office, "We have an audience."

"I'm not surprised." I said. I glanced at Connie and Lula who were blatantly staring out the window.

"I have to go, I have things to do before Friday. I want you to take one of the Explorers."

Ranger had an endless supply of pristine, brand new, black vehicles for his employees to use and where he got them was a complete mystery. He was constantly giving them to me and I was constantly ruining them.

"I don't want to kill it." I said.

"It's just a car." he said, "And I have good insurance."

"You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"

"Nope." he said, "Tank's already on his way."

Just as he said that, a shiny black Ford Explorer pulled into the lot. Tank got out and tossed me the keys.

Tank was six foot five, African American and built like a tank. He was comprised entirely of bulky muscles on top of bulky muscles and when he got out of the Explorer the suspension of the small SUV groaned in relief.

"This thing has keyless entry and keyless start. Put that fob somewhere on your person and you can't get locked out of your car." Tank said.

"Thanks Big Guy." I said. Tank gave me a half assed salute and got into the passenger seat of the Cayenne.

I gave Ranger a little wave and was about to go back to the Bonds office when Ranger grabbed my hand and dragged me back.

"Gruzzie is a pain in the ass but he's a pain in the ass with a gun. Don't get shot.' he said.

"I almost never get shot." I said. He gave me one hell of a goodbye kiss and got into his vehicle. He popped open the centre console glove box and handed me a small black gift bag.

"Jeeze, a car, a house in Florida, a ring, and now this? Careful Ranger, a girl could start to feel spoiled."

"You'll thank me tonight." He said. He closed the door and drove off. I opened the bag and cracked up. Inside was a pair of fuzzy black wool mittens with (thanks to Ella and her fancy machine) the Rangeman logo embroidered in hot pink across the back. I was still laughing as I pulled them on and went into the office.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: My kid keeps waking me up and now I can't get back to sleep. My insomnia is your gain; here is Chapter 4 and as a bonus I have seriously edited and extended Chapter 13 of Family Matters. My plan is to finish this story, finish Family, and then go back and seriously rework Tink and the rest of Family. I'm glad you're all enjoying this, I'm seriously loving all of the reviews. Insert usual disclaimers here.**

When I started back towards the office Connie and Lula scrambled away from the window in an attempt to look innocent. Like Ranger and I hadn't just been the best thing for them since the latest Bachelor finale. Even if I hadn't seen them staring, I would have known they were up to something from the moment I walked into the Bonds Office simply because Lula was attempting to look innocent by actually filing.

"So? Ready to go?" I asked Lula as I flopped onto the world's most comfortable hideous sofa. Seriously, I was considering trading it for the one in my apartment, I'd sleep on it whenever I wasn't sharing my bed with someone. Which would probably be a lot more often now. Ranger was a busy guy and I just told him things didn't have to change from what they were. Okay and then he kissed me in public, so he was changing things anyway. Or was he? I tried to get stressed but the sofa wouldn't allow it. It was a magic sofa. "Can I buy this couch from you? I think I'm in love with it."

"What the hell is going on?" Connie demanded, abandoning all pretence that she was working on her nails instead of dying of curiosity.

"I'm taking Lula to go pick up Gruzzie." I said, being deliberately obtuse.

"First Tank's in here telling me that you and Ranger are going away for a while, he doesn't say where or why. He just says that you're going to handle any open cases you already have, but to forward anything else to Rangeman. Then that display in the parking lot? That shit's going to get back to Morelli, it probably already has. So I ask again, what the hell is going on?"

"I can't believe you don't know already." I said.

"The phones and internet went down this morning just after you and Ranger left." Connie said. "Lula is going nuts over there."

God I loved that man. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that Ranger was behind the communications blackout at the Bonds Office and I had to fight another dumb assed smile. Really, there was something wrong with me. Connie was right, there's being in a good mood but there's a point where it just becomes obnoxious.

"Why don't you just use your cell phones?" I asked.

"Mine's got no signal." Connie said, "And Lula's died yesterday so she's phoneless until it gets fixed."

"I'm living in the dark ages here." Lula said, "How am I supposed to get any news without my phone?"

"There's always the newspaper." I said and picked up the paper that was sitting beside me on the sofa.

"I ain't usin' no paper. It's just a bunch of dead trees filled with dumb ass shit nobody cares about." Lula said. I looked at the headline. I was pretty sure that people cared about the fact that unemployment was at an all time high in Trenton. "All that is, is one person's ideas on shit. I need to read multiple sources to make my opinion. It's called being well informed."

Lula only looked at celebrity gossip pages on her phone. Probably if I asked her about any current political events, she'd stare at me like I was speaking Greek.

"Don't make me ask again, Plum." Connie said.

"Joe and I broke up " I said, "It was messy, it was public and it's permanent. Ranger drove me around for a while to process and then helped me pick up Hank."

"You and Morelli break up all the time. The only time Ranger ever takes the grab ass public is if one of you almost get yourself killed; then we all pretend we don't see it." Connie said.

"It's complicated." I said with a sigh.

"You always say that when you don't want to tell us anything." Connie said.

"If I knew what it was, I'd tell you." I said defensively, "I have no idea what's going to happen now that Morelli is permanently out of the picture."

"Are you going away together?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's complicated." I said again, Connie threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

I couldn't tell her that it was for a job. Keeping the news of Ranger's proposal from them wasn't just so I didn't have to deal with their insanity when I got to the office; it was a strategic play. Tank didn't say we were going away for work, just that we were going away. When they got the news that Ranger and I were "engaged" they would probably think we were going off to elope. If I told them that I was going away with Ranger for work and they found out that we were engaged, Connie wouldn't buy it for a minute and Connie likes to theorize out loud. Even if she only theorized in front of Lula and swore Lula to secrecy, it would be all over Trenton in about five minutes flat. Lula would just have to tell twenty-five of her closest friend, in the strictest confidence of course. It was easier if they didn't get any of the details until I was out of reach.

Now if Lula weren't around, I'd tell Connie everything, because Connie knew how to keep secrets. Connie knew that too and directed a glare at Lula.

"What's with the mittens?" Lula asked, oblivious to the death stare.

I shrugged, "I woke up with the heat off in my building and my hands still haven't warmed up. You know how Ranger is, he probably noticed the way I was hugging my coffee cup over breakfast and figured that what I needed was a pair of fuzzy mittens. Though I doubt he actually thought the word fuzzy. It's not the kind of word that would be in his vocabulary."

Neither of them bought it; they knew I was leaving something out. I knew they knew, and they knew I knew they knew. They also knew they weren't going to get anything else out of me just yet so they let it drop.

"So, anyways, I've gotta go drop Rex off at my mother's because we leave early Friday. So umm yeah, can we go do this now?"

Lula narrowed her eyes at me, but she picked up her handbag and we went out to the Explorer. To give myself some time to come up with an explanation that would satisfy Lula, I gave her control of the radio. I knew she would tune it to some rap station and crank the bass and there would be no way we could hold a conversation while we concentrated on keeping our fillings from shaking loose.

When we got to Gruzzie's Social Club for Aging Mobsters, I switched off the car and hunkered down, waiting for Lula to decide it was okay to start questioning me. She held off for almost an hour until she made a snack and coffee run.

"I ain't saying you gotta give me all the details." Lula said as she got back into the car, and began rooting through an enormous bag of chocolate, "But I'd think as your best friend, it's only natural for you to give me something. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't know what was goin' on in my girl's life?" She handed me a package of peanut butter cups. Ranger was right, there was enough chocolate in that bag that I didn't need to eat that breakfast feast. I put the peanut buttercup package into the cup holder and hugged the paper coffee cup instead. Lula nudged me impatiently.

"You know how…I mean…" Spit it out Stephanie, yeesh. "Joe and I broke up because I love him but I also love Ranger and last week I accidentally told Ranger I loved him and he didn't run screaming. In fact he's sort of done the opposite and I'm happy and I haven't felt good like this in forever and I like it and I don't care if it's complicated and I don't care if it's a bad idea I just want to hang onto feeling happy for a while. I don't think that's wrong is it?" And breathe.

Okay so maybe my carefully planned speech went a little off the rails but it felt good actually telling the truth. Not to mention my honesty would go a long way towards earning her forgiveness when I got back from Florida. Lula looked at me for a beat and blinked a couple of times. She nodded a little and looked out the front of the car, munching on a peanut butter cup.

"I'm not buying your story about the mitts by the way," she said.

"Fine, I got something on my hand and it's not coming off and I don't want to talk about it."

"You didn't get some of that crazy assed food colouring shit on you did you? I hear they still can't get it off of good ole Dippy." Lula said. I gave her a squinty glare. "Hey, I'm just saying if it's food colouring, just embrace it and get yourself a tattoo."

"It's not food colouring."

"Uh huh. Can I use your phone?"

"You can try. It crashed this morning and I can't get it to work."

I handed it to her and she flipped it over and did something with the buttons, "Gonna have to reset it, might lose some shit, hope you backed it up."

"One of the merry men does it about once a month." I said.

Lula worked her voodoo on the possessed phone and once it was up and running again she gasped.

"Holy crap you have 150 unread text messages!" Guess I didn't lose anything after all. Bummer.

"Don't read them. They are probably all from my mother." I said.

"Your voicemail is full too." Lula said.

"Yup."

"Damn…"

"What do you need my phone for anyway?" I asked before she could start hassling me or decide to let her finger slip and accidentally read some of the messages.

"I want to use Google." Lula said.

I narrowed my eyes and watched her log onto the search engine and tap in, "Kick ass girly hand tattoos" I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain.

"Hey look at this one. This one's cool." Lula said. I glanced at the phone, I kind of agreed actually. It was a lipstick print with a skull and cross bones shaped void on the right side of the print.

"If I ever have to get a hand tattoo, that's what I'll get." I said dryly.

"You can't do the skull and cross bones, someone's already done that. You need something original, like handcuffs."

"That would remind me of Joe." I said, "No to the handcuffs."

"You got a pair on your belt right now. Never get a tattoo for a man. You gotta think of it like this is all about you."

"What about the Wonder Woman logo? I've always wanted to be Wonder Woman."

"Hot Damn." Lula said, "That's your new tattoo. I'll save it to your pictures."

I shook my head with a sigh and took my phone back.

"Are you really without a cell?" I asked.

"Might as well be, they gave me this piece of shit until my new one comes in." She held out an ancient Nokia, almost as old as Hank's flip phone, "Nobody calls anybody anymore, they just text and this bitch don't text. It's like I fell off the planet or something."

Another hour and two more coffee runs later we were both restless. I had turned the battery on so we had seat warmers to keep us from getting hypothermia but it wasn't cutting it anymore.

"I say we give this idiot ten more minutes and then we go find a little girl's room." Lula said.

"Yup." I said. I needed a bathroom too and being cold and having to pee were a not so great combination. Not to mention the seat warmer kept making me think I'd wet myself and I kept having to look down to make sure I hadn't. Three minutes later I was ready to call it and so was Lula, when a car pulled into the parking lot of the Social club and Gruzzie got out. "That's him."

"How do you want to do this?" Lula asked.

"He's a billion years old and walks with a cane and a limp." I said, "I announce myself, and when he tries to run, I jog after him. You are going to sit in the driver's seat, see which direction he's going and try to head him off if he looks like he's getting away from me."

I pulled my phone back out of my pocket and called Lula's cell phone on it. I hit speaker on both phones and did a sound check, "I'll tell you where I'm going, don't lose me."

"You got it! I always wanted to do a car chase. I'm going to drive the shit out of this car."

"I run like I'm asthmatic and he's older than Moses; you don't have to drive the shit out of anything." I was starting to feel like this was maybe a bad plan. That maybe I should be the one who was driving and Lula should be the one who got out.

"Did you buy a new gun yet?" I asked.

"Damn skippy I did. Wanna see it?" She opened her purse and pulled out a Tiffany blue and pearl 9mm Sig that was probably worth a fortune, "I got it from my neighbour. Her man gave it to her for her birthday but she's already got a gun and thought this one was for pussies. I like it though, I think it's lady like. I'm thinking of dying my hair to match."

Yeah, Lula was armed, no way she was going to do the apprehension. She'd go to shoot him and miss and probably take out someone's car.

"Maybe stick to matching it to your nails? Hey what colour are the bullets? Are they blue too?"

She nodded enthusiastically, ejected the magazine and handed it to me. I didn't even look I just shoved it into my pocket and took off. I'd be in crap for that but at least now her gun only had the round in the chamber. The chances of her hitting anything with only one bullet were pretty slim.

I jogged across the lot, Gruzzie's driver and henchman were already inside the club and Gruzzie was kicking the snow off his shoes at the front door.

"Mr. Gruzzie?"

"I'm a busy man, Cookie. I don't have time for whatever you're selling." He said. I looked down at what I was wearing. I was worried about the state of the world if sales people were making calls in dirty beat up fake Uggs and saggy assed jeans. The jacket and mitts I could understand but I would be the first to admit that the rest was just sad.

"I'm not selling anything. My name is Stephanie Plum, I'm here representing your bail bondsman and you've missed your court date. I'm sure it's simply an oversight so if you would just come with me, we can go to the courthouse and get you re-bonded."

Now I've had all kinds of responses to this speech, anything from a guy stripping naked and covering himself in vaseline, to having someone firing a massive hole in their door with a shotgun. The only thing that really surprised me when Gruzzie pulled out his gold plated Desert Eagle was that he could lift the damn thing. He had a serious near sighted squint going on and I was willing to bet that he was a worse shot than Lula.

He fired and I dove for the hedges next to the steps of the social club. I heard a ping as the bullet ricocheted off of a fire hydrant and hit the gutters directly above me. There was a crack and I curled up into a little ball as the the icicles on the eaves let go and started raining down on me. Then there was a SLOOSH as the snow being held in place by the ice came sliding down off of the metal roof.

I managed to roll out of the way of most of the avalanche, but now I was pissed. Some of the ice had fallen down the back of my jacket and I was already having a messed up kind of day, I didn't really need this shit. I got to my feet and took off after Gruzzie. He was running, his cane was apparently only for hitting people with, and the limp was allo for show because he was moving like a man two hundred years younger. He turned to shoot at me again, he fired directly into another fire hydrant and the bullet ricocheted again and grazed him in the shin. He yelped and stumbled forward, giving me the opportunity to tackle him. His gun skittered across the ground out of his reach. He tried to scramble for it but I was straddling his surprisingly firm ass and had a bracelet on one wrist.

A few people came out of a nearby convenience store and Gruzzie started yelling, "Help, I'm an old man! She's attacking me for no reason!"

"You tried to shoot me!" I yelled back but we were drowned out by the god awful unholy moan of tortured metal. Gruzzie and I both froze and looked over our shoulders in time to watch the Explorer round the corner on two wheels. The sound we heard was the SUV scraping along the side of an ice hardened snow bank.

I could see from where I was that Lula's eyes were nearly popped right out of her head in panic and she was frantically turning the wheel, trying to get the SUV back on all four wheels.

"Uh oh." I said. I used Gruzzie's shock to slap the other bracelet on him and yanked him up by the scruff of his jacket and then we both hauled ass just as the car slammed back on four wheels. Lula yanked the wheel hard in the opposite direction and the SUV's tires screamed, the vehicle flipped hard onto the driver's side and the mass of metal came hurtling towards us. Gruzzie and I dove into an alley next to the convenience store and scrambled behind a dumpster just as the wreck came to a screeching halt inches from the front of the convenience store.

"Holy Shit!" Gruzzie said and then his eyes rolled back in his head and it was lights out. I made sure he hadn't just keeled over from a heart attack and once I found a strong pulse I got out from behind the dumpster and sprinted towards the wreck.

The SUV was unquestionably totalled, the airbags had deployed and I could barely make out that Lula was in there.

"Lula!" I called, "Are you okay?!"

"No! I'm stuck in this dumb assed Explorer! What kind of dumbasses make a car that can't go around a corner right? That's what you get for driving stupid assed Ford!"

"I'm calling 911." I said, "Sit tight." She kept up her rant about the uselessness of all American Auto manufacturers in general, forgetting completely that her Firebird was a Pontiac and therefore also American.

I hit go on the phone and walked back to Gruzzie, who had come to and was out from behind the dumpster.

"You saved my life." He said when I got back to him.

"Yup."

"I owe you a life debt." He said.

"Cool it, this isn't I Dream of Genie and this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't taken off."

"Still, I owe you one." He said.

"Don't run while I check on Lula again and we'll call it even."

"I swear on everything I hold dear that I will not move from this spot." He was a mobster who was involved in every kind of scheme imaginable and probably ordered more than one hit in his lifetime. I was guessing there wasn't a lot he held dear. I walked him back to the dumpster and attached one of his cuffs to it.

The 911 dispatcher finally picked up and I reported the accident said I needed a couple of ambulances and the police and disconnected.

"You aren't very trusting." Gruzzie said when I hung up the phone.

"Nope." I took my coat and flannel shirt off, wadded the shirt up and handed it to Gruzzie, "Put pressure on that wound." I said, gesturing to his gun shot and shrugged myself back into my jacket. I left him in the alley and went back to Lula. I climbed up onto the side of the SUV and hauled the door open.

"Can you move everything?" I asked. She had a cut on her forehead, but she was alert, actually she was more than that, she was seriously pissed off.

"Hell yes and did you tell them to hurry up? I gotta pee and I don't wanna mess all over the upholstery."

"I'm impressed you didn't pee when you tipped the car over." I said.

"Your ass! I wasn't scared. It was this cars fault, I didn't do nothing wrong. Imagine Ranger putting you in a death trap like this? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"Hang on." I said. I lowered myself into the car and braced myself up against the side of her seat and used my feet to kick out the broken windshield. With the big bits of glass gone I put my jacket over what was left and helped Lula wiggle out of the front of the car. She hit the ground and immediately sprinted towards the convenience store to use the facilities. She came back just as the sirens arrived and was immediately swept into an ambulance to be evaluated.

She had some bruising on her thighs that they wanted looked at and she was going to need stitches and a tetanus shot for the wound on her forehead. They bundled her up and gave me a blanket and a windbreaker so I was no longer hanging outside in the middle of second winter, dressed for summer. I got out of the ambulance to deal with the police and promised Lula I'd bring her purse to the hospital as soon as it was rescued from the wreckage.

There were four Cops taking witness statements, I recognized Carl and his partner Big Dog who were busy talking to one of the first gawkers. She was a little old lady who looked like she was in shock as she babbled to the officers. She was using huge shaky hand gestures to describe how the car came around the corner and she was as white as a sheet. I approached and gave her my blanket. Carl left her with Big Dog, slung his arm around my shoulders and led me away.

"Hey," I said.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Peachy, I wasn't in the car when it tipped." I said.

"I knew that, I don't mean about that mess." he said, gesturing to the wreck, "I heard it was bad."

"I don't know if there's such a thing as a good breakup." I said.

"Lucile Burgess said that you stood there taking his verbal diarrhoea for far longer than you should have."

"I didn't listen to most of it. I figured I had it coming when I said 'yes' to Ranger while things were still pretty grey between Morelli and me."

"Yeah, well just so you know, the guys wanted me to tell you that you may be our pain in the ass little sister, but you're still family which means we still got your back."

I choked up and was actually grateful for the gust of wind because it gave me something to do so I didn't blubber in front of him. I stomped my feet and rubbed my arms for warmth.

"So what actually happened here?" Carl asked.

"I made a strategic error. I forgot when I made Lula wheel man that she drives a low slung muscle car. We were chasing a skip and she took a corner like she was an F1 driver."

"That your FTA chained to the dumpster?" He asked. I looked at Gruzzie who was having his shin patched up by a paramedic.

"Mario Gruzzie." I said, "And yup."

"Did you shoot him?"

"I'm not carrying a gun." I said.

"That's not what I asked." he said.

"He fired at me and hit the fire hydrant. He caught a ricochet." I said.

Carl looked past my shoulder and said, "He certainly doesn't waste any time."

I turned around and saw a familiar flatbed, followed by the Cayenne. Ranger looked at the Explorer and I wondered if he had a special internal sigh of exasperation for moments like this. I mean he didn't appear stressed, just sort of efficient and in charge but honestly, he had to be wondering how the hell shit like this kept happening. I mean I do. He gave some instructions to Tank and Al (the owner of the flatbed and the man who outfitted all of Ranger's vehicles with all kinds of kick ass gizmos) His instructions were short and what was necessary to get himself onto the accident scene then his next stop was me.

"Hey, long time no see." I said.

He didn't say anything, he just looked at me with an eyebrow raised so slightly that it was easy to miss if you didn't know Ranger. I did though and the eyebrow was more or less a nonverbal "What the fuck, Stephanie?"

"Hey, don't give me that, I wasn't driving. I didn't realize Lula didn't know you can't take corners at high speeds while driving a tall car with a short wheelbase. I mean there are stickers everywhere inside saying that you shouldn't but you know… My bad." I said. I held my hands up in a mia culpa.

Carl smothered a laugh. Ranger reacted on the inside.

"We're done here." Carl said, "And hey, congratulations you two."

Ranger accepted Carl's handshake and Carl went back to the wreck.

"I'm fine. I promise. Not a scratch."

Ranger took his coat off and draped it around my shoulders. The man was wearing a t-shirt and was completely oblivious to the temperature.

"You're shivering." he said.

"Well I'm cold, I'm only wearing a tank top under this windbreaker. I kind of sacrificed my shirt and coat to those in need" I said.

"And the blood?"

"What blood?" He nodded slightly to the sleeve of my jacket. "Oh, not mine. Gruzzie took a couple of potshots at me and one ricocheted and hit him in the shin. It's probably his."

"Babe." Ranger said. I got the feeling Gruzzie wasn't going to have an easy time in lock up. I was also pretty sure that the communications black out was about to end at the Bonds Office and Vinnie was about to be discouraged from posting Gruzzie's bail again.

"His cataracts are so bad he was aiming about five feet to my left and I was standing right in front of him." I said. "I wasn't in any real danger until Lula did her rally driving."

"What do you need?" he asked.

"I have to fish our handbags from the wreck and then I'm going to need a ride to the police station to drop off Gruzzie and then to the hospital to check on Lula." I said.

He handed me his keys. "I'll call for another car, I have to stay behind to deal with this."

"Thanks." I said. "Who's giving who the ass cramp now?"

Ranger chuckled, pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. Seriously, how the hell was he so warm? I reluctantly let him go and we walked back over to the SUV where Al already had the handbags ready for me.

"Tank's going with you." Ranger said. I tossed Tank the keys and gave Ranger back his coat. Tank was here for the same reason Ranger was, only Tank was more concerned about Lula than he was about me. She scared the hell out of him, but he had some pretty strong feeling for her and would need to see her for himself before he could rest easy.

Ranger went about doing whatever it is he does after one of these things and I followed Tank back to Gruzzie and his paramedics. "Does he need the hospital?" I asked.

"It looks worse than it is. He's free to go with you." The Medic said.

"This is a dumb assed charge, that's why I didn't go to court." Gruzzie said, "You should just let me go. I'm a law abiding citizen."

"You shot at me." I said, "Twice. I'm pretty sure that's against the law."

"I'm an old man." he said, trying to look pitiful and failing completely.

"Sorry, but you mean the difference between making my rent and not. On your feet." I said and motioned for him to stand up.

He stayed mutinously sitting on the ground, arms crossed, "I got shot because of you. I'm not going with you." he said.

"You got hit by your own bullet!"

"I'm not going and you can't make me."

You could tell just how bad his eyesight was because I don't think he realized that the enormous presence towering behind me was a person. He was pretty surprised when Tank released his cuffs from the dumpster and lifted him off of the ground by the front of his coat, holding him at arms length. Gruzzie started to kick his feet as he struggled to get away from Tank and nearly nailed Tank in the twins.

"No." Tank said and waved a finger at him the way you would a dog who was acting out. His tone allowed for no argument and he effectively put Gruzzie on mute. He put a now docile Gruzzie back onto the ground and gently propelled him towards the Cayenne. Thirty minutes later I had my body receipt and Tank and I went to the hospital to wait with Lula.

We waited forever for the doctors to tell us she had a concussion and they wanted to run some more tests before they would let her go. With the recent weather, the hospital was packed and it was possible she would be there most of the night. While the doctor was talking to Lula, Tank pulled me aside. "Go home Little Girl; you look done. I've got this." He handed me Ranger's keys and I said a quick goodbye to Lula.

I got to the Cayenne, blasted the heat, cranked the heated seats and heated steering wheel to maximum and waited for the car to warm up. I'd woken up cold and with the exception of when I was making out with Ranger in the alley, I hadn't been warm all day. The only way I was going to heat up now was if I boiled myself in a shower and I was going to do just that as soon as I got home.

I tugged my mittens off and tossed them onto the seat beside me so I could grip the steering wheel more comfortably and the ring on my left hand caught the light. I felt a slight twinge when I looked at it. It was gorgeous, probably the nicest thing I'd ever worn, and my mother was right, it did suit me. In fact, it was perfect. Of course it was perfect, Ranger chose it. He practically lives inside my head, he absolutely knew exactly what I would pick for myself.

"Fuck." I said and put the car in gear, "It's never going to happen Stephanie, so don't even think about going there."

It was dark by the time I left the lot and the snow had started again. Anyone who had snow tires on their cars had taken them off during our spring like weather, so traffic was moving at a slow crawl, there were accidents all over the place. The drive home, which usually took fifteen minutes max, took an hour and it was a little after 8:00 when I got to my building and found a spot at the back of the lot.

It was only after I switched the Cayenne off that I noticed the activity at the front door.

"Well… Crap." I said.

The furnace repair truck was still in the lot and with it, parked next to the front entrance, was a cube van. Dillon was at the back of the van unloading space heaters onto a dolly. So much for the furnace being fixed by noon. I had two options, I could go into my freezing cold apartment and set up one of the space heaters Dillon was unpacking or I could just turn the car back on and head straight to Ranger's.

I was about to turn the car back on when another movement from caught my eye. It had come from a parking space near the front door and I turned my head to look more closely. Parked under one of the lights was a Jeep with a dinged up front quarter. The pristine white snow was mostly obscuring the colour but it wasn't so thick you couldn't see a hint of forest green. Some of the snow fell off of the vehicle when Morelli got out and kicked the driver's side door shut. He had an overnight bag in one hand and was carrying a Pino's pizza box in the other.

"What the hell does he think he's doing?" I said. My stomach growled in response and I looked down, "You shut up. We're not going anywhere near that pizza."

I watched Joe exchange a few words with Dillon as he accepted one of the space heaters under the arm holding the overnight bag and went inside. I waited until I saw the light flick on in my apartment and was about to turn the car back on when my cell rang. It was Ranger.

"Yo." I said.

"Yo yourself, you've been sitting in your parking lot for ten minutes. Am I worried?" Ranger said.

"Nope. You home?" I asked.

"In my office." He said, "I have a few things to wrap up here and then I'm coming over."

"Don't, I'm coming to you. My heat is still out." I said.

"Go up to seven when you get here." he said and he disconnected. Normally I found that irritating, but I was a bit distracted, trying to figure out what Joe was doing. A movement in the window caught my attention and I looked up to see Joe looking directly down at me. He nodded once and kept looking at the car. What. The. Hell. Was. That?

I turned the car on and pulled out of the lot. A few minutes later my cell phone rang and Morelli's number popped up on the radio display of the car. I ignored the call and stopped behind a minivan at another fucking light. The snow that was falling was the giant puffy kind and I thought it was actually kind of pretty as I watched the flakes land on the hood of the car, turn a translucent red thanks to the tail light of the minivan, and then dissolve completely. As I watched each flake land, the fascination faded into a slowly building anger.

"No." I said, "No he wouldn't do that." I unlocked my phone and hit Morelli's number. He answered on the first ring.

"Cupcake, we need to talk." He said.

"I know. I just saw your missed call when I got in the car." I said.

"Are you on your way home?" he asked. What he said next I missed because I was so mad I almost drove into the back of the minivan at the next light. If it weren't for the Cayenne's top notch brakes and four wheel drive, I probably would have hurt two of Ranger's car in one day.

"Did you hear me?"

"No, I didn't. Sorry, the roads are insane." I said, gritting my teeth.

"Listen, I drove by your building to bring a peace pizza; I saw Dillon, your heat's still off." Joe said.

"Shit." I said.

"Why don't you come to my place, we'll talk and if you want… I mean if you're still serious, my guest room is open."

"You're unbelievable!" I shouted, "How long were you waiting in the lot? Huh? Probably about an hour given the accumulation of snow on your car. That move with the pizza and over night bag? Nice. I especially liked that bit at the window, the nod to say you were on watch for the night, well done you son of a bitch."

"Fuck, you were in the car." Joe said.

"I'm driving!" I snapped, "You knew he'd come over because he always comes to check on me after a near miss. He just doesn't come up if you're there. Well guess what Joe? Get used to being on the other side of it. He's not going to be the one sitting in the lot anymore."

"Cupcake…"

"No! I'm done. I told you I was done and now I don't even feel bad anymore. I can't believe you'd do that to me!"

"And what about what he did? Proposing to you in public like that? He did that so I'd hear about it from everybody but you."

"You know what? Fuck you Joe." I jabbed the button on the dash to disconnect and then dialled Ranger.

"Yo."

"Why did you propose in the diner? Did you do it because you knew Morelli would get word and it would fuck us up?"

"The truth?" Ranger asked.

"No Ranger, fucking lie to me." I snapped.

"Babe."

"No, don't Babe me. I just watched Joe try to screw you and me up. I want to know if you were doing the same fucking thing."

"Morelli didn't enter into the equation; after last week I didn't think he was a serious consideration anymore." Ranger's tone was the one he used when things were stressful and he wasn't going to allow emotions to cloud things. When things were bad it was weirdly reassuring, when it was directed at me it made me feel sick. "Was I wrong?"

"No." I said.

"Ella is making dinner. What do I tell her?" he said. The ball was in my court.

"Look at your screen." I said as I signalled and turned onto Haywood.

"See you in five." he said and disconnected.

I pulled into the garage to find Ranger waiting for me, leaning in the elevator door, arms crossed. I parked the car in his space and killed the engine. I got out and looked at him, "I have nothing with me, most of my clothes are at my mother's and I couldn't go into my apartment. I don't want to talk about it, just tell me that Ella washed what I left here last time."

"She tried." Ranger said, "You were right to be worried caramelization. The sugar was well into the fibres of the clothes and melted your top to your jeans."

"Well I'm not going out tonight. I'm having a long hot SOLO shower and then I'm going to have to borrow stuff from you while I run this through the wash. I'm not wearing a uniform tomorrow and I wore the only other thing I had in your closet that wasn't a slutty dress when I left here the last time." I said and stomped into the elevator.

"Want to talk about Morelli?" He asked.

"Nope." I said and gave him my death glare as I folded my arms across my chest, "You might not have done it on purpose, but today… your fault. All of it. Interesting my ass."

Ranger grinned.

"It's not funny." I snapped. He grinned wider, "If you're about to tell me I'm cute when I'm angry, I'm leaving and I'm taking a taxi. And I'm moving and…"

The grin vanished and he was suddenly very, very serious. He backed me up against the wall of the elevator. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and clicked the button that disabled the cameras and then he hit the stop button and the elevator lurched to a halt.

"Impressive and hot, but certainly not cute. Anyone who think's you're cute when you're angry is an idiot, because he's seriously underestimating you." he said. He was very close, his smell was intoxicating, the intensity of his stare dizzying "I was smiling because I am looking forward to apologizing to you. I was smiling because you're pissed as hell at me, but you aren't pushing me away. I stopped smiling because you stopped looking pissed and looked hurt. I won't hurt you Stephanie."

"You have. Every time you push me away. Every time you tell me to fix things with…"

"That will never happen again." He said and he kissed me. Elation, relief and a little bit of fear flooded my body. I forgot about being cold, I forgot about Joe's stunt, I forgot about the shitty parts of the day, I just kissed him back as fiercely as he was kissing me. I felt his phone vibrate against my hip and he hit the go button on the elevator. He tightened his grip on me as the elevator lurched upwards and he broke the kiss. With his eyes boring into mine he pulled his phone from his pocket and answered the call.

"No." He said and hung up.

"You don't even know who that was." I said, "It could have been important."

"Not more important than what I'm about to do." He said. The elevator doors opened and he picked me up by the waist and I wrapped my legs around him. He carried me straight to the bedroom, ditching my coat and tank top along the way and gently put me down on the bed.

"Today you woke up with borderline hypothermia, you were shot at and nearly hit by a car twice." He unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them off, "I need to inspect you for damage."

"You can't just take my word for it?" I asked.

"Babe."

Right, I forgot. He's not really a words kind of guy…and I wasn't cold anymore.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I was having posting issues, so here are two chapters in one for you! Everything Belongs to J/E, all mistakes are mine.**

An insistent and really obnoxious beeping woke me up. I was using the crook of Ranger's left elbow as a pillow and the beep was his watch alarm going off more or less in my face. Ranger stirred behind me and used his right arm to pull me into a tighter spoon so he could kill the noise.

"It's the middle of the night." I groaned, "You can't possibly have to get up now."

"I don't have to be out of bed until 5:30, which is in an hour."

"Then why the hell would you set your alarm for…" I didn't finish the thought, his hand had wandered south and I had my answer.

An hour later I was asleep again, with a smile on my face and he was running with Tank. When I woke up again it was to a kiss on the nape of my neck at 8:00 "I have to go down to the office for a meeting in an hour." Ranger said.

"It's going to take me a while to get used to your ridiculous sex drive again. Just give me like, the morning, to recover and I'll be good to go." I flopped onto my back, eyes still closed and I discovered muscles I'd forgotten I had. I needed to take up pilates or something; Ranger had a habit of making me believe I'm far more flexible than I am.

"You need to work on your stamina, Babe." he said.

"You need to stop making me miss meals."

"That was all you." Ranger said, "I got up because I was hungry, I asked if you wanted to join me and you declined."

"That doesn't sound like me," I said.

"Your exact words were, 'Fuck off Manoso, I'm sleeping.' "

"Nevermind." That totally sounded like something I'd say.

"Get up, we have work to do before I go downstairs."

"I liked you better when I thought you wanted more sex," I said.

"Would it get you out of bed faster if I offered to help you shower?" He asked. I considered it; shower with Ranger or coffee? I peeled an eye open and looked at him. He was smiling at me and he was so close and he smelled so freaking good.

"I do need a shower…" I said.

Twenty very satisfying minutes later I walked into Ranger's kitchen dressed in one of his T-shirts and a pair of his socks. There was coffee in the pot and a box of Cocoa Puffs on the counter.

"Thank you, Ella," I said and helped myself to a bowl. There was absolutely no way Ranger would voluntarily desecrate his kitchen with Cocoa Puffs. Ella would, though. The cereal was a total bribe mixed in with a good old fashioned motherly guilt trip. She wanted me to stay over more often because she liked having another woman in the building and because she thought I was a good influence on Ranger. How could I say 'no' when there was such excellent cereal in the kitchen and it was clearly bought just for me? And she bought the big, family sized box; I had to stay over more often simply so it didn't go to waste.

"Want some?" I shook the box enticingly at Ranger.

"I've eaten." He said, smirking. I shrugged and carried my cereal and coffee to his dining room table and sat down.

"I'm willing to bet you didn't have an actual, human, breakfast; I bet you had your smoothie," I said. Ranger drank a smoothie for breakfast most mornings, it was green and it was lumpy and I'm pretty sure the main ingredient was grass… and not the fun kind.

"I had a bagel." He said and checked his watch as he sat down, "Eat your bribe and drink your coffee."

"Pushy."

"I only have half an hour and I need your brain to activate."

I obediently took a sip of my coffee, it was delicious but it wasn't strong. I'd need the whole pot to function properly but it would work for what Ranger wanted it for. "Okay bring it. I'm mostly alive."

"The first B &E took place on a Friday afternoon while the residents were out shopping. The couple came home to find their rottweiler tied up in the backyard."

"How did they know he wasn't just forgotten in the backyard?" I asked.

"The couple has a drawer full of sex aids; the rope came from the drawer."

"Why would they admit the rope came from the naughty drawer? Why not say it was from the garage?"

"It was silk rope, specially designed for bondage so that it doesn't chafe or leave ligature marks on the skin." he said.

"Really?"

"I'd be happy to demonstrate sometime if you like."

My mouth went dry… I mean, hell yes, let's do it, but not being able to move while he did whatever he wanted and how intense that could get…

"Focus." I said, more to myself than to him "House number two?"

"On a Monday night while the occupants were next door at a barbecue. The contents of the cupboards were rearranged."

"Well, that's just time-consuming and irritating."

"But ballsy," Ranger said.

There were half a dozen break-ins all of the same nature. Most of them not even what you would call vandalism, actually I doubted the police would even conduct much of an investigation if they were informed. There were certainly worse things going on in the world than a bunch of the 1% being inconvenienced. At least that's how my cop friends would look at it.

"It's a lot of effort just to inconvenience someone," I said. Clearly whoever was doing this was watching the houses and knew the family's movements. Then to go through all of the effort it must have taken to figure out how to bypass their security systems without leaving any evidence, all just to be moderately irritating? It didn't feel right, it felt creepy. "It's stalkery."

"I'll trust your judgement on that one; you're the expert," he said. He didn't mean I was a profiler or behavioural analyst or anything; I've just had a lot more stalkers than the average person. He checked his watch again, must be an important meeting.

"Give me the files and I can go over them myself. You do what you need to do and when you actually have free time, I'll come to you." I said, "you're obviously pressed for time and thanks to an unexpectedly successful day yesterday, I'm not."

"There's been a complication."

"What kind of complication?"

"The kind that means I might be getting on a plane for Miami this afternoon, I'll be going ahead with our luggage." Ahh, basically that meant he had to cram a whole day's work into a morning and while messing around with me in the shower was definitely worth his time, he didn't really have time to play this morning.

"Is it related to this?" I asked.

"No, but it is going to require a lot of my attention over the next little while. I'm going to need you to take the lead on this investigation." Ranger said, "I'm going to be commuting from the house every morning and unless something critical happens, I'll be with you in the evenings to keep up appearances and help if you need it."

"Aren't we supposed to be there on 'vacation'?" I asked.

"We're there to reconnect after a long deployment and my subsequent retirement from the military. Thankfully you're a very understanding fiancee and you realize that a crisis in my company takes precedence over a vacation." Ranger said.

"You're a lucky guy," I said. "So what am I supposed to be telling our neighbours when they ask what you're driving off to do every day?"

"The truth." he said, "No covers on this one, Babe. My face was plastered all over the news in Miami for months because of the Scrog incident, yours too for your part in it. There is a high probability that someone will recognize us and I don't want to get caught up in a lie."

"Well, that's a relief." I said, "I'd for sure mess it up if I had to start calling you Carlos."

I got up from my seat and bent down to give Ranger a fast kiss before I went to the kitchen to refill my coffee. The man said he wanted me to think, my brain needed more fuel. When I came back Ranger was giving me a strange look.

When in any sort of relationship with Ranger, one had to learn to read micro expressions in order to understand him. While some people had resting bitch face, Ranger's resting facial expression was firmly on the border between disinterest and menace. If you didn't know him, and even if you did know him, he was an intimidating guy. So you had to look for very subtle cues to learn the line between, 'He finds me funny and loves me.' and 'Shit, he's going to chop my limbs off and send the rest of me off to Afghanistan in a packing crate.' What would usually make people smile, made Ranger look like it might make him smile. What usually put people in hysterics, caused Ranger to smile, maybe chuckle. That I could actually make Ranger smile or laugh on a semi-regular basis was something I took pride in.

This look was something different. This look I had no idea what it meant, but it made my heart beat a little faster and sent a rush of happy straight through my body. Though to the average person, they would just think Ranger was looking at me with his usual intelligently expressionless face.

"What?" I asked, "What did I do?" I checked the back of my t-shirt to make sure it hadn't ridden up and my ass wasn't hanging out. That this wasn't a new 'Screw my meeting, I'm going to take you right here on this table.' look.

"You've never kissed me before." he said.

"What? We've kissed more times than I can count."

"I kiss you and you respond. You've never kissed me."

"Really?" I said incredulously.

"Really." I didn't believe it. I mean I know I've initiated sex before and Ranger loves kissing. He kissed me all the damned time. Just because he likes to do it. There is no way we have sex without kissing involved. I mean yeah, sure with the exception one time, every time I'd started it, it had been in a quickie type situations. I mean I never…

Well, I'll be damned. He was probably right. In the past, I was either too caught up in trying not to feel guilty about loving two men or protecting myself from getting hurt that I wouldn't have done that. Still, Ranger had to be up there with one of the best kissers in the galaxy and I've had free access to those kisses, whenever I wanted them, for years. How the hell have I never taken advantage of that before?

"Sometimes I can be really really stupid." I said, "I hope you'll forgive me?"

I straddled his lap, he put his hands under my t-shirt on either side of my waist. I grabbed hold of the hem of my t-shirt and tugged it over my head. Ranger made a low noise in his throat, and I could see him fighting his instinct to take over. His hand slid up and his thumb grazed the underside of my breast just as our lips met… and his cell phone rang. I slumped against him, my lips still pressed to his and groaned. I felt him smile as he took my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pushed me off of his face enough so he could give me a fast bone-melting kiss before he tugged the shirt back over my head.

"No time anyway." he said and then answered his phone.

"Yo." He checked his watch, "I'll be down in two minutes."

Ranger lifted me off of his lap and plopped my ass on the table.

"Ella is shopping for you today if there is anything you think you're going to need, send her an email. Anything you want to bring from your apartment, get it and she'll pack it."

"I can pack my own bags, Ranger, Ella doesn't have to do that," I said.

"I have a strong sense of self-preservation." Ranger said, "There are certain things you don't fuck with. Ella, when she's packing, is one of those things."

"Your housekeeper has you whipped," I said.

"Don't let it get out but Ella is really the one who runs Rangeman."

"Well yeah. She controls the food." I said.

"What are your plans for the day?" Ranger asked.

"I have to take Rex to my parent's and I have let Dillon know I'm out of town for the next little while. After that, I'm hiding from Connie and Lula because there's no chance that they haven't heard our news yet."

"Use the Cayenne and come back to Haywood when you're finished. I'm out of time and you keep distracting me; there are things I need you to go over." His phone chirped again. He checked the readout and rolled his eyes. I nearly fell off the table in surprise. Seriously, that was a big reaction from Ranger. "If I promise to make it look like an accident, do you think anyone would care if I killed my nephew?"

"What's he done now?" I asked.

"He was supposed to be helping Bobby in the infirmary this morning and didn't show up. Bobby went to check on him and he's gone."

"You don't have time for this right now; go to your meeting and I'll find him," I said.

"I'll owe you one." he said, "Take Cal."

Ranger retrieved my phone from where it was charging on the kitchen counter and downloaded an app. He opened it, punched in a code and handed my phone to me. Then he gave me what I am pretty sure he had intended to be a fast kiss but wasn't, groaned in his throat, pulled himself away from me and left.

I looked down at the app he had installed; the icon was the handcuffs from the Rangeman logo. I tapped it and a map of Trenton popped up. On that map, there was a little green dot flashing on Stark Street. I grinned, sure he wanted to kill his nephew, but a GPS tracker planted on you without your permission was Ranger's way of showing his love.

I finished my coffee and went to the bedroom to get dressed. My clothes from the day before hadn't made it to the wash and there was blood on the jeans so I tossed them into the laundry hamper and looked in the closet. I had a few options: I could go with one of my Rangeman uniforms, I could borrow a pair of Ranger's sweatpants and drag them on under his t-shirt or I could wear one of the dresses he had picked out for when he wanted to use me as bait.

In the back of my little corner of his closet, there was a black jersey dress I hadn't seen before, it looked like it might almost not be slutty. With a pair of knee high boots and the biker jacket from another outfit, he'd had me wear once I might just look fashionably ass kicking. I found a clean bra and clean underwear on my side of the closet and got dressed. When I looked in the mirror my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. What I thought was a modestly draping neckline actually went almost all the way to my navel and while the skirt did go to the knee, the dress was so tight that I'd have to ditch any attempts at underwear. It was, without a doubt, one of the sexiest, most seductive, things I'd ever put on my body.

There was a tap on the door and Ella walked in. "Oh, you found that did you? I bought that for you ages ago and he hid it in the back of the closet because he didn't want you to wear it."

"He doesn't like it?" I asked.

"I think the problem was he thought he might like it a little too much," Ella said.

"Would you mind packing it?" I asked. With nothing else to wear, I changed out of the dress and into one of my uniforms, after I picked up Carlos 2.0 I'd have to go get my laundry. Maybe I'd make Ella's day by leaving more clothes here.

"I'm going shopping for you today dear, I was wondering if I could take your measurements in case anything needs to be tailored." She said.

"Uhh, sure," I said. She had a clipboard and a plastic tape and measured everything so precisely that I was wondering if she was actually going to have a wax figure made of me and not just going shopping.

After she finished with her tape I went into the bathroom, crammed my hair into a ponytail that I tucked under Ranger's Navy Seals ball cap. I added the utility belt that Ranger had all of his employees wear, having promised him that when I wore the uniform, even though my t-shirt didn't actually reach the top of my pants, I'd wear all of it. Which included a 9mm he kept ready for me in his bedroom safe. I added one of Ranger's zip up hoodies for additional warmth, borrowed a winter coat from Ella since mine needed replacing, and went down to the car where Cal was waiting.

Cal was probably the scariest looking of Ranger's men. He was enormous, bald, had a flaming skull tattooed on his forehead and the physique of a stegosaurus with a serious steroid addiction. He also fainted at the sight of blood and turned into a giant pile of mush if he was anywhere near a baby.

"The kid is a pain in the ass." he said by way of greeting.

"I get a feeling he takes after his uncle a little bit," I said.

Cal wisely didn't comment. The building security cameras were wired for audio as well as visual; Big Brother would most certainly tell Ranger I called him a pain in the ass. "Don't worry, I know how to handle Ranger, I'm pretty sure I can figure out Mini Me," I said. My phone buzzed with a text and I looked at the readout.

-Babe.

I laughed and waved at the monitors before I got into the driver's seat. Cal, unlike Tank, didn't drive when I was in the car. Cal drove like an 80-year-old woman and the last time he drove me anywhere, the glacial speed we were travelling made me want to stab him in the eye with the straw from my fountain coke. It wasn't just me, nobody let Cal drive.

We found Carlos on a corner talking to a bunch of bangers. He was wearing jeans that were eleven sizes too big and hung off his ass so far that I wasn't surprised he got arrested. I mean he was screwed if he had to run from the police; he'd fall flat on his face within two steps. He saw the car and rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest in a way that mimicked Ranger when he was being intimidating. Considering the kid was probably 130lbs soaking wet, it didn't exactly take. His homies had his back for all of eleven seconds before they recognized the Batmobile and then they took off. Carlos lost the aggressive stance and threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. I hit the button on the electric window and rolled it down.

"Get in." I said, "I'm going to McDonalds. I only had cereal for breakfast and I need protein in the form of a Sausage and Egg McMuffin."

"Why should I go with you?" he asked.

"If you want to pull off the Ranger scary stance, you're going to need to lose the supermodel physique," I said.

"Fuck off."

"I'm trying to be nice. Do you really want me to call him and say you're not co-operating?"

"This is bullshit anyway. All I did was get caught smoking weed. Ain't nobody gonna care if I don't stick to the agreement."

"I was wrong, he's not at all like Ranger, this kids an idiot." I said to Cal, to Carlos I said, "You don't get threatened with five years in Juvie for blowing a joint."

"You don't know what you're talking about bitch," Carlos said. Cal stiffened beside me but I put a hand on him to stop him from reacting. Carlos started walking away.

I took my foot off of the brake and let the car roll forward, following him. "We can do this the easy way where you get in the car and I use what little cash I have left to buy you breakfast, or we do this the hard way where I taser you in the ass and Cal tosses you drooling into the back of the car… And I still get breakfast. Totally your call." Carlos kept walking and flipped me the bird over his shoulder.

I watched him light a cigarette and I sighed. I sent Ranger a text asking him if Carlos had any heart problems I needed to worry about if I nailed the idiot with the taser. He texted back immediately.

-Fire away.

-That wasn't a joke.

-Didn't think it was.

"Excuse me Calosaurus," I said and reached under Cal's seat for the drawer that held the taser. I found it and checked it's charge then I put the car in gear again and it rolled forward.

Carlos saw the taser and scoffed, "You wouldn't do that to me. I'm his nephew; he'd be pissed."

"I zapped Ranger in the ass with a stun-gun and mostly what he wanted to do when he saw me next was kiss the hell out of me. Trust me, I can get away with pretty much anything If he is pissed at me, it'll be because he didn't get the pleasure of zapping you himself. Last warning, taser to the ass or breakfast."

He pulled a knife from his pants pocket and flipped open the blade. "Back off."

I held up my hands, "Fine. Backing off." he put the blade back in his pocket and turned again. I fired the taser and tagged him in the right ass cheek. He let out a startled yell and then dropped, twitching to the sidewalk.

"Think that was petty because I found it satisfying?"

Cal shrugged, "He is in violation of his parole; it was practically your civic duty. Nothing wrong with a little pride in your work."

Cal got out of the car and pulled the doodads from Carlos's ass and yanked him to his feet. He confiscated the knife, tossed Carlos into the back seat of the car and cuffed him to the security bar Ranger had installed under the seat.

"Breakfast?" I asked Cal.

"My treat," Cal said. We hit the drive-thru just as Carlos managed to stop drooling into the seat leather so I ordered him a Sausage McMuffin and a juice and drove around for a bit until he stopped twitching.

"You shot me in the ass." He groused, "My ass is spasming because of you. It's pissing me off."

"You had it coming," I said.

"You're literally a pain in my ass."

"Stop bitching, we still bought you breakfast and we're not telling your uncle you threatened me with a knife," I said.

"Oh, thanks for that." He wasn't really grateful, he was being sarcastic.

"You should be grateful." Cal said, "If the boss finds out, you'll be lucky if all he does is send your punk ass to jail. He don't take kindly to people threatenin' Bomber."

"Whatever." he grumbled, "I shouldn't even be arrest was bogus and the only reason I didn't get off with just a warning is because the judge had her panties in a bunch about something."

"Think about it. Like rub those two brain cells of yours together and use the extra juice in your system from the taser to get them nice and stimulated," I said. Carlos glared, "Don't you think Ranger could make a minor possession charge go away? All he'd have to do is show up at the pokey and tell them that you were his nephew and they'd release you with a warning. He wouldn't need to call in favours to get you released unless they were looking at you for something else."

"I'm telling you, I just had a joint," He said.

"I'm telling you, I have a lot of friends on the police force; not one of them is going to give a shit, or want to deal with the paperwork involved, with busting you for a single joint unless they suspect you for something else."

"There's nothing else to get me on. I haven't done anything!" he practically shouted.

"Any of your idiot friends have guns?" I asked. He nodded, "And these idiot friends, they ever ask you to hold something for them?"

"I held Pitbull's bag at my house for a couple of days." He said with a shrug, "So?"

"Let me guess, he told you not to open it?"

"Well yeah."

"Probably that bag had evidence of a much bigger crime in it, if the police found it, your DNA and prints would be all over it. Now given the punks you were just hanging out with, my guess is they knocked over a liquor store or something. If that's what it was, then you'd better hope that nobody got killed during that robbery, because that's first-degree murder, and they are probably looking at you for an accessory charge. That's fifteen years in prison if they decide to try you as an adult; which they probably were and that's why Ranger stepped in."

"He did it because he didn't want to piss off Abuela Rosa."

"Why would she step in to protect you when she believes that Ranger's stint in Juvie was one of the best things that happened to him? It straightened him out; he finished high school, went to college, joined the army, became a highly decorated officer and then started a very profitable business. You were heading for the same destruction as he was; why wouldn't she think it would have a similar effect on you? No, you were looking at something worse and you needed protecting."

"You don't know what you're talking about." He said. I gave Cal an exasperated sigh.

"I give up." I stopped the car and removed Carlos's restraints and handed him my last $20, "You're free to go."

He started opening the door and I picked up my phone.

"Who are you calling?" he asked.

"Ranger."

"Why?"

"Because he called in a bunch of favours to save your dumb ass; he needs to know that you don't need his help." I said, "I mean why should he have your back? You have your homies to do that… oh wait, they punked out on you."

"Fuck off."

"I'm trying to! You won't get out of the car." I said, "Of course, I don't know where you're going to go. Your friends aren't going to take you in, right Cal?"

"No fucking chance," Cal said.

"What? Yes, they will…"

"You're buddy Pit Bull hid evidence with you. They're up to something and they aren't going to want someone who's going to have TPD and Rangeman looking for him, blowing whatever operation they have going on." I said.

"He'd have to be pretty stupid to go to them anyway." Cal said, "If you're right, and you usually are, then when the police bust him, and they will, he's basically handing the DA a conviction."

Carlos stared at us, his indecision clear on his face. "Hurry up and get out so we can close the door! It's fucking cold out there. I'm glad it's you and not me who's going to be spending the night out there."

"You staying with us again tonight, Bomber?" Cal asked.

"That's going to depend on whether the heat is fixed in my apartment or not. It's colder today than it was yesterday. I'm not all that excited to die of hypothermia, besides the sheets on the beds at Haywood are amazing, and Ella's food…" I said, Cal looked over his shoulder at Carlos who was sitting there with one leg out of the door, completely torn.

"Well? Are you going or not?" Cal asked, "I have work to do, so does Miss Plum.

Carlos closed the door and put his seatbelt back on. "That shit you said, you really think that?"

"Yeah, I do." I said, "Ranger believes in consequences, he wouldn't have stepped in without your permission if he didn't think you were in over your head."

Carlos didn't say anything, but he did look a bit pale. I swung by my parent's house and grabbed my laundry. Carlos (who was looking a bit pathetic by that point) came in to help bring the clothes out to the car and was immediately fussed over by my mother. She declared him too thin, and not dressed for the cold. After forcing him into a sweatshirt of my father's she sat him at the table and proceeded to cook him a breakfast feast. Since I'd already had two breakfasts, I figured it was probably best to avoid the bacon if I wanted to still fit in the black dress I wanted to model for Ranger. While he sat in my mother's kitchen, under the watchful eye of Cal, I ran my laundry back to my apartment (which was still without heat) gave Dillon a cheque for the rest of my rent, picked up Rex and brought him back to my mother's. By the time I got there, Carlos and Cal had polished off a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs and a pound of bacon and my mother looked like she was in heaven. She filled our arms with leftovers and sent us on our way, making me promise to bring Carlos back when I got back from Florida.

When we got to Haywood, Cal took Carlos down to the lower parking level to the mechanic's bay and I went upstairs to five, to let Ranger know we were back.

When I got to the floor, I was met at the elevator by Lester Santos, who greeted me with a bone crushing hug that lifted me off of my feet.

"Hey, buddy," I said when he put me back down. Lester and I shared a cube whenever I worked here. He had a sweet tooth as bad as mine, a sense of humour, fantastic green eyes and a mouth that got him into trouble a lot. He was also really freaking smart and could be really, really, really scary when he wanted to be. In the office, he was my cookie dealer.

"Hey Beautiful!" he slung his arm around my shoulders and walked me to my cube, "Tell me you're packing lots of little bikinis for Florida."

"Ella's packing so I don't know. Are you coming?"

"Nope, but I'm hoping there will be cameras on the pool," Lester said.

"Perv."

"Oh come on Beautiful, I love it when you don the black uniform and join us. You keep things interesting. I'm fucking jealous of the Miami branch right now." Lester said. I looked on my desk and there were four banker's boxes labeled Reef Knot.

"Uh, what's that?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, the boss wants you to learn about the place. I've pulled together preliminary research on all of the residents in Reef knot, plus basic security information. It took me for- fucking-ever." he said, "Their head of security is sending me complete copies of all of the evidence reports and the photographs they took of the scenes. I should have them for you by the end of business today."

"What do you know about bypassing alarms?" I asked.

"Everything, Beautiful. Want me to include a primer on everything you need to know about security alarms and how to bypass them?"

"It would be helpful," I said.

"I'll try to make it interesting." he said, "So you don't fall asleep. I'll even use small words and describe everything in a really condescending manner because I know women like that." I smacked him in the back of the head.

"That almost hurt, you're getting stronger!" He said and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Is Ranger busy?" I asked.

"Actually, you can interrupt him; he told me to send you in when you got back. How'd it go with the kid?" I filled him in on my morning, he was laughing by the end, "I love your work."

"How much shit is he in?" I asked.

"He's got mat time with me and Brown later because the Boss is afraid he'll kill him and he's put me in charge of his education. Kid's going to work mornings in the garage and spending his afternoons in an office I'm having cleared out to use as his classroom. Then in the evenings, he's going to have physical fitness training until he's too fucking tired to even think about running off again."

Ranger once described 'Mat time' to me as an educational sparring session. When I told Lester that, Lester informed me that the only lesson anyone ever learned was that it was unwise to piss Ranger off.

"Go easy on him, he's just a kid," I said.

"We're actually just going to teach him to handle himself. If Cal spends the day scaring him into believing otherwise, well that's the price Minnie is going to have to pay for taking off."

"Oh. My. God. You're not seriously calling him that... He'll be stuck with it for life."

"He's not going to lose it anytime soon." Lester said, "It made Ranger laugh."

"Where is he? I should check in."

"Doctor Evil?" Lester asked innocently, "In his office."

"I dare you to call him that to his face."

"No deal. I like my ass where it is, I don't need it handed to me." Lester said. He grinned and spun his chair so that he was facing his computer. I left our cube and walked to Ranger's office and knocked on the door.

"Yes." He called.

I opened the door and leaned on the frame. His office was like his apartment, neutral, luxurious and free of clutter. He had a large L-shaped desk with a multi-screened computer that always had a zillion windows open on each screen. Behind him was another screen that showed what I called BabeTV. It was a screen that rotated through four images, a map of Trenton that showed my location thanks to a series of GPS tracking devices he had a habit of slipping on me, the security camera of the hallway outside of my apartment, a camera from across the street from my building that just happened to have a view of my apartment, and the security camera inside the Bonds Office. Stalker vision that has saved my life more than once so I've pretty much stopped caring.

"He's back I take it?" Ranger said.

"Yup. I love teenagers. Cal and I filled him with contraband and an enormous pile of bullshit. For the moment at least, he's thinking running away from you again is maybe a bad idea." I said, "Oh and the taser in the Cayenne needs charging."

Ranger smiled his zillion megawatt smile and waved me into the office.

"Babe, I'd like you to meet Roman Chase." He motioned towards the sofa, not visible from the door, I turned and sitting on his sofa was probably one of the most recognizable faces in the business world. He was right up there with Bill Gates, Richard Branson and Steve Jobs. Roman Chase got to his feet when he saw me and offered me his hand. He was shorter than I expected, only a couple of inches taller than me, putting him around five eight. He also coloured his hair, in pictures it looked jet black, always, but he had grey roots showing. Otherwise, he was pretty ageless. He had cool, intelligent, grey eyes and the tan of a man who spent a lot of time outside. Which, if his public image was to be believed, he did.

"Chase, Stephanie Plum, she's going to be taking the lead while I'm dealing with the Morganthal situation."

"Nice to meet you," Chase said.

"My pleasure." I said I turned to Ranger, "What's up?"

"What makes you think something is up, Miss Plum?" Chase asked.

"Ranger can see on that screen right there," I pointed to BabeTV, "Where I am at pretty much any given moment. As soon as I entered the garage he would have checked to see if Carlos was with me, so there was no actual reason for me to check in."

"An excuse to see you, maybe?" Chase suggested.

"If he wasn't in a meeting with an important client, I'd buy that," I said.

"There's been another break in." Chase said, "I've managed to convince the homeowners not to contact the police for now, but they are pretty shaken up."

"What happened?" I asked.

"A stamp collection was taken out of a locked desk and put on the kitchen counter. With it were the appraisal documents for a very rare stamp called, the Penny Red, which is part of the collection and worth a little under $800,000." Ranger said and handed me the report.

The collection belonged to an Investment Manager by the name of Darryl Stevens. Stevens inherited the collection from his father fifteen years ago and having little to no interest in philately, kept the collection in the family safety deposit box in Key Largo. Three years before, the extremely rare 'Penny Red' stamp came up for auction and given the extensive collection his family was known to have, he was contacted. He bought the stamp and put it in the box with the rest. Over Christmas the Smithsonian did a special exhibit on the world's rarest stamps and since he had several in his collection, the collection was put on display. The exhibition ended last Sunday and yesterday, he personally picked it up on his way home from New York. He got in later than expected and didn't have time to make it to the bank, so he locked the collection in his desk drawer with the intention of taking it to the bank first thing in the morning. The entire collection was valued in the neighbourhood to $10 Million.

"He locked it in his desk drawer?" I asked looked up without finishing the rest of the report, "A collection worth ten million bucks?"

"He often keeps sensitive documents in his desk; he's had a top of the line lock put in a steal reinforced drawer." Chase said, "The lock uses a soft key, which is unpickable. It would be like putting it in a safe."

A soft key was very rare and supposedly unpickable. Ranger has only taught me how to bump a lock, he hasn't gotten around to teaching me how to use a more subtle means of picking a lock. He did explain it to me on a stakeout once because I was bored. Most common locks use a pin and tumbler system, which is basically a bunch of spring loaded pins that are positioned along a cylinder at various heights. In a five pin lock, it means that there are actually five pin positions, but ten pins. The pins are positioned on top of each other and the idea, is, with the help of a little torque on the lock, to push the pins up so the point where they meet is aligned with the edge of the cylinder, thus allowing you to turn the cylinder and open the lock.

The shaft of a lock that uses soft keys isn't straight, it curves at sharp angles, which means that you can't get your pick in. A soft key is put together like a chain and sits in a track inside a key that works a but like a syringe; you put the track in a slot in front of the lock and then inject the chain inside and turn the key. Ranger got his hands on one of these locks when he went in the wind about a year ago and he keeps it in his desk because he's determined to figure out a way past it. The man has some seriously questionable hobbies.

"Okay, so how did our guy break into the desk?" I asked.

"He had a key," Ranger said.

"What? How? I can't imagine it's easy to get a copy."

"He didn't get a copy." Ranger said, "He used Stevens' key. He broke in sometime after Stevens returned home before he went to bed. Stevens and his wife were going for a late night swim, he took the keys from Stevens' key ring and opened the drawer."

"Crap," I said. I opened the file and read over the rest of the details. Stevens locked his stamp collection in the desk at a little after 8:30, sometime after 9:00 he and his wife decided to take a swim together. I'm guessing swim was a euphemism for fooling around in the pool, considering later in her statement Mrs. Stevens said that Mr. Stevens left the bedroom at 11:00 to get his cell phone charger from the den and that's when he discovered the breech and called security.

"Is he sure the collection is complete? If he has no interest in the stamps, would he actually be able to spot if it had been replaced by a forged set?" I asked.

"I've got a man on it." Ranger said, "He says at first glance the collection looks legit. It's extensive, though, so it's going to take him some time."

"They are good people Miss Plum. They are willing to accept that I'm hiring the best to get to the bottom of this. I'd appreciate it if you did it quickly and quietly." Chase said.

"It'll take as long as it takes," Ranger said, "And Stephanie is one of my best investigators; she knows how to be discrete."

"That's not what I found when I looked her up. It seems a disproportionate number of things blow up around her." Chase said.

"The jury is out on my luck. None of the explosions were my fault it's just that weird stuff happens to me, a lot." I said. Ranger chuckled.

"What?" Chase said, "I didn't think you knew how to laugh."

"It's just the biggest understatement I think I've ever heard." Ranger said, "That being said, only the crazy shit ever hits the papers. Have you ever known me to exaggerate?"

"No." Chase said, "And you wouldn't be serious about a woman who wasn't exceptional."

"Then the benefit of the doubt might be nice," Ranger said.

"You know, not many people speak to me like that Manoso."

"You don't pay me to be nice," Ranger said.

"Yeah, Ranger doesn't really do nice," I said, "That's kinda why he's bringing me. Sadly even dressed to party like I am today, I'm about as threatening as a box of kittens."

Ranger shook his head, smiling. Chase grinned, "I like you."

"Oh, that's only because you don't know me yet. Give it time and you'll be reaching for the Maalox like everybody else." I said.

"You figure this out, Ric and I transfer the account to you."

"I'm glad you brought that up." Ranger said, "We're going to have to renegotiate our original deal."

"We have a contract," Chase said.

"We do," Ranger said, "And in that contract there is a clause that states that if at anytime I feel that there is an increased risk to my assets, I can renegotiate the terms of our deal."

"And our original deal said I got you and now I don't," Chase said.

"No, our deal says that I will be personally involved and I shall be overseeing the investigation, which I will be. It says nothing about me taking the lead." Ranger said.

"We know this guy has balls; if this latest break in is an escalation, it's slight and we both know it."

"You are asking me to send in my most valuable investigative asset into a potentially dangerous situation with very little real information," Ranger said.

"What are your terms?" Chase asked. Ranger handed him a piece of paper and Chase scoffed.

"You're kidding me."

"Do I look like a man who's kidding?"

"It's steep Ric, whatever happened to the friends and family discount?"

"If it were one of my men and not my fiancee I would be asking that, but since it is Stephanie, believe me, you are getting the friends and family discount. If you don't wish to pay it, we can delay the start of this investigation until the situation in Miami has been cleared up. We both know that I don't have the manpower in Florida to be taking on another major client right now, I'm taking this case as a favour."

"And if I refuse?"

"You lose the retainer you've paid Rangeman already and because of our history, I give you the names of the best private investigators in Florida."

"And how many of them are going to charge me to use your resources?"

"All of them." Ranger said, "I get paid either way."

"You're taking advantage of my desperation," Chase said.

"You wouldn't respect me if I didn't."

Chase flashed Ranger a massive smile, "You'll have the new contract on your desk this afternoon." He said and turned to me, "I hope you know what you're taking on."

I shrugged, "You've read the papers and you clearly know him. He won't admit it but he's an adrenaline junkie and I'm disaster's bitch. Are you really surprised we'd be drawn to each other?"

Chase laughed "I have to go, it's been good to see you again Ric."

He shook my hand again and left. I waited until the door was closed before I turned to stare at Ranger, wide-eyed. "You totally just used me!"

"Do you have a problem with that?" he asked, smirking.

"Well, that's going to depend a lot upon what was on that piece of paper," I said. Ranger got a wicked gleam in his eye and I knew exactly what he was about to do. He was going to make me okay with it by shorting out my brain, "Oh no you don't mister. Keep your hands on that side of the desk."

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, "We're getting double what we were going to get before, all expenses will be covered and we'll be taking over security from a rival company once the job is completed. We've been looking to take over this company for about a year now and Chase is their largest client. If we get Chase, they will have no choice but to sell."

"How much was I going to be getting before?" I asked.

"$75,000," Ranger said.

"And you just got me double that?"

"Yup."

"I'm okay with you using me," I said.

"I thought you might be." Ranger said, "Have you spoken to Lester?"

"Yeah, I have." I said, "I don't know if I know where to start."

"Until he's got the complete crime scene reports, start with our neighbours. I want you to get a more complete picture of who they are, what they do, etc. While those searches are running, I want you to learn the layout of the community. Chase designed it to resemble a series of knots when looked at from above which means the place is needlessly complicated to get around. There should be a map for you with the rest of the files."

"When do you leave?" I asked. He checked his watch.

"In about fifteen minutes," he said. Shit, that didn't give me much time. When we were cruising around with Carlos, my mind had wandered into the 'What if' section of my brain before I could stop it and it made me realize I needed to have a slightly awkward conversation with Ranger.

"Ummm it occurs to me… guys don't think about this stuff, but umm girls do. I mean it's the first thing my mother thought of, pretty much anyway and…"

"Babe." he glanced at his watch, reminding me he had to leave in fifteen minutes.

"Wedding plans. People are going to ask about our wedding plans. We don't uhh need a lot of specifics, but like a general idea of where and when we're pretending to get married is uhh, probably a good idea. So we're going to need to be on the same page."

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Well, umm…" In reality, I had no idea, I just knew that if I had a dream wedding and I spewed out my plans, I'd have to come up with a new dream wedding because if I ever did get married again, I'd be thinking of Ranger in the tux and not my yet to be discovered fantasy man. Not that, that was a problem, because I didn't actually have a dream wedding and that was probably because my current fantasy man was sitting at a desk in front of me.

"What about something small and uh Catholic?"

"Is there such a thing as a small Catholic wedding?" Ranger asked, with a snort of amusement.

That stopped me.

He was right, I'd have to invite all of my family. With mom, dad, Val, her husband and three kids and grandma, that was eight. I'd have to invite Mary-Lou and her husband and kids so that's another five, we're already at twelve. Plus my dad has four brothers and two sisters, and their spouses which puts us at another twelve. So there's twenty-four, each of them had two kids, and they're all married. If we added my cousins and their kids, we're already at 75 people. My mother's side of the family was at least that big, so without blinking, or inviting any friends besides Mary-Lou, the guest list was already up to 150 people. Connie, Lula, Val and Mary Lou would want to be Bridesmaids. Which was fine, I guess, but Lula and my mother would totally take over the planning. They did it to my sister. And then I remembered the dress that made me look like an eggplant and Lula being in love with the idea of bright orange. Mom would take me to some place to look at a dress selection that hasn't changed since the eighties. I'd get bullied into some satin and lace monstrosity, and my mother had a thing for big lilies, which was fine except they were the only plant I was allergic to. She refused to believe lilies were the culprit, whenever she put a vase of them out on the table and my nose went ballistic she would say it must be some other flower on the table. She was going to insist that I carry them down the aisle… And what about Ranger's family? Mom was right! What were they going to want to have input into, and Ranger had three older sisters and a brother, how many of them were married with children? But he was quasi-estranged from them, so would he even invite them?

I could feel my heart rate starting to skyrocket, something that happened around Ranger a lot, usually out of lust or adrenaline, this time though it wasn't fun, it was the beginnings of a panic attack. I mean if his family was as big as mine, and it probably was, then we're looking at a wedding of at least 300 people. Forget about the cost for a minute, I was going to have to stand up in front of 300 people, wearing a dress that makes me look like the bride of Frankenstein whilst carrying a bouquet of hay fever so I could marry the sexiest guy ever… and then I'd have to dance in front of…It was getting hard to breathe and there was a loud ringing in my ears, my chest hurt because my heart was beating so hard and it was hot, like really hot in Ranger's office.

"Take deep breaths, Babe." Ranger's voice cut through the clanging in my ears, I didn't realize I'd closed my eyes but I had and when I opened them, Ranger was right there, "Take deep breaths and focus on me." I was sitting on the sofa and he was crouched in front of me, holding what felt like a cold bottle of water against the back of my neck. He looked as calm as he always did, his voice deep and smooth and reassuring. I felt the tightness in my chest start to recede and my body temperature starts to come down.

"Better?" He asked. I nodded and took over holding onto the water bottle. He sat on the sofa next to me and put his hand on the small of my back, "Just keep your head down until the ringing in your ears stops." he said.

"It's gone." He helped me sit up slowly and he was smiling.

"I haven't seen you panic like that since we told you what the Slayers wanted to do to you; considering it made Tank go a little green, I can't exactly blame you for that."

"You would panic too if you knew what was going on in my head." I said, "It would be a total circus. Imagine family dinners at my parent's house times a million. And my dad's family… You have no idea, all day and all night there would be constant digs that you weren't Italian…"

Ranger pushed my head back between my legs, "You, me, a priest and two witnesses." He said.

"That's way better," I said. The panic was receding and now I just felt crazy, "I feel like an idiot. It's not even a real wedding."

Ranger chuckled, "Blame me when you're asked why we're not having a big wedding."

"You're full of really good ideas today." I said, "Can I stay here again tonight?" I needed to turn the subject away from fictitious scary weddings.

"As it's 40 degrees inside your apartment, I think I can allow it." He said, lips twitching.

"You have a problem. You do know that right?" I had absolutely forbidden him to install cameras in my apartment, listening devices were out too. He monitored the outside of the building, he monitored the hallway of my apartment, he tracked my position, he tracked my cars, he monitored the building fire alarms, and he got an alert if my windows broke or were opened from the outside. Now the ambient temperature?

"It could be worse." He said, "I considered buying the building, but I felt like maybe you'd see that as crossing a line."

"That would depend; would I have gotten a new bathroom out of the deal?" I asked.

He responded by pulling me onto his lap, "I have to go." he said, "You're wheels up a 8:00 tomorrow, Tank will be driving you to the airport."

"And who am I looking for when I get there? Some man in black I presume?" I said. He nodded.

"You're not going to be more specific than that?" I asked.

"I don't know who is going to pick you up yet." he said, "I'll let you know when you land."

He was giving me that look again, the one I couldn't figure out. I got the same butterflies, I had the same sudden inability to stop myself from smiling. "What?"

"Just trying to work something out." He said. He gave me a quick kiss and deposited me back onto the sofa. "Tank is going to come in here in two and a half minutes to tell me we have to leave. If I keep kissing you, I'm going to miss my flight."

"That reminds me. I didn't want to say anything before I confirmed with you, but the men know about the job, right?" I said. Nobody had brought up the ring. I know they are guys, and guys aren't often the most observant of people, but these men were trained to notice any small detail. If they thought we were really engaged, Lester would certainly have said something.

"They know that we're wooing Chase to be a client, they know you and I are going to Florida for the investigation, I've told them nothing of the nature of our relationship. They will draw whatever conclusions they want to." Ranger said.

"Is it because…" I didn't actually know how to finish that sentence out loud. They all knew about Ranger and me, they weren't stupid, and they would totally get why Ranger would choose me to be his fake fiancee. Maybe he was worried that one of them would say something they shouldn't? That wouldn't be it. Oh God, it was pity. Not pity from Ranger, but from his men. I mean they knew I was in love with their boss, they weren't stupid, that they would probably think I took this job just so I could be closer to him. Their pity would show on their faces and blow everything.

"I have told you before, my life doesn't lend itself to personal relationships; that isn't limited to romantic entanglements." He said, "I respect my men, I will protect them, I will see to it that they have every opportunity possible, but they aren't my friends. The only way my personal life has any bearing on their lives is if it directly relates to their work. They have their instructions as far as you're concerned, they know you belong to me. What that means exactly isn't any of their business and they aren't going to treat you any differently as my fiancee than they would before there was a ring on your finger."

"No exceptions? Not even Tank?"

"You're the only exception." He said, "You're the exception to every rule."

He cupped my cheek like he was giving serious consideration to kissing me again but something was stopping him. There was a knock on the door and it opened and Tank came in.

"We have to go." Tank said.

I looked over Ranger's shoulder 13:40:08. "You're really scary," I said to Ranger.

"Tank is just predictable." Ranger said, "The men are at your disposal today. Use them."

He kissed me goodbye and then left me standing in his office holding his keys. I went around to his desk and sat down. I had always assumed that Tank was his friend, the way he is with his men, he joked with them, sorta I thought they had to be friends. Huh, no wonder he was a workaholic, without his job, the man had even less of a life than I did.

I left his office and went back to my cube, where Lester had a set of over the ear headphones on (something that only happened if the boss was away). I tapped him on the shoulder.

Lester knocked the left ear piece off with the back of his hand and looked at me, "S'Up?"

"Ranger said there was a map?"

"Shit, yeah." Lester pressed a couple of keys on his keyboard and pointed to the copy room over his shoulder with his thumb before he put the headphones back on. I went to start the searches on my computer and saw that he'd already started them for me and they were running. I looked over his shoulder to see what it was he was doing that could entice him to do that for me. It wasn't altruism and Ranger hadn't told him to do it. Lester had a program open and was working on a complex equation that had something to do with trajectory and vector analysis. He had a notebook open on his lap and he was tapping the pages with the end of a pencil while he muttered to himself. Yeah. I'd be willing to do anything to procrastinate doing that, too.

I went into the copy room and watched as the HP 5000 printed off a full sized map. When it was finished I peeled it off of the printer and rolled it up to take upstairs. I didn't feel like being in the office anymore.

I spent the rest of the day going over the map and reading about our immediate neighbours. I went to bed early, knowing that I was going to have to get up ridiculously early to catch my plane.

I woke up the next morning when it was still dark out, crawled to the shower and stood under the spray for a million hours until I woke up. I got out and put a crap load of gunk in my curls as a pre-combat strategy against the humidity. Ella had left me an outfit to wear on the plane that she assured me was perfect for the impression I needed to make when I landed. I was pretty sure she was just trying to encourage Ranger. It was the black dress, leather jacket combo that I rejected for picking up Minnie. I skipped the boots, opted for a pair of easy slip-off flats and went downstairs to meet Tank.

Tank was silent as he drove me to the airport and bypassed the main terminal. "Uhh, where are we going?" I asked.

"A guy owed Ranger a favour." Tank said as we pulled around to a chainlink gate. Tank leaned out the window and punched in a code, the fence rattled as it slid slowly to the right on its squeaky wheels and we drove out to a small Lear jet.

"You're kidding me," I said.

"Gotta look the part." Tank said.

"That's not really the reason why," I said.

"It's a pain in the ass to travel with weapons and some of the equipment Hector wants to bring." Tank said, "You'd have flown with Ranger yesterday but he says you're scary when you fly commercially."

"He might be right about that."

I hated airport security with a passion, I could walk through the metal detectors buck-assed naked and set them off. There's no shrapnel in my body that I'm aware of, nothing repaired with pins, we don't know why, they just always go off. Lula thinks it's my hair, she thinks that with the dry air in the airport, the static I generate must produce a magnetic field that fucks with the sensors. I'd buy that except that Connie has more energetic hair than I do and she doesn't set them off. Add to that frustration, lines, always being chosen as the random female and inevitably either being seated next to the passenger from hell, or in front of the kid that has to kick the seat, I was never in the best of moods when I landed.

I got out of the Range Rover and boarded the plane. It had four rows of roomy fawn leather seats, one seat on either side of the narrow aisle. It was small, but it was luxurious and I half flopped into one of the seats at the back, sinking into the soft fawn leather.

Minutes later, Hector, Hal, and Cal boarded the plane. Hector was the smallest of Ranger's men, covered in tattoos, didn't speak English and was Rangeman's technical wizard. He winked at me when he saw me and made a shooting motion with his fingers. I smiled and finger waved back. The first time I met him was when he was installing a security system in my apartment. The second time I met him was when I shot the stupid assed remote that wouldn't unlock my apartment and I demanded the system be removed. I think it made his week; I don't think I've ever seen a man laugh that hard before.

Once they had loaded all of the crap they needed to bring with them, the doors closed and we began taxiing. As soon as we were airborne I reclined my seat and went to sleep. Work or no work, I was probably going to be doing a lot of my thinking and research poolside, working on my tan, this was counting as a vacation for me.

I woke up when we bumped down on the runway and immediately went back to the bathroom to see what kind of damage two and half hours of sleep had done to my hair. It was still mostly okay, I didn't look like I'd been drooling or anything, found some mouthwash in the vanity, used it to get rid of the stale taste in my mouth and got back to my seat just as the plane came to a stop at the terminal.

Terminal was a generous word for the building we stopped at. It looked like a small beach house with a deck complete with reclining chairs and umbrellas, the deck was populated with mothers reclining in the deck chairs while their little boys jumped up and down and pointed excitedly at a float plane that was getting ready to take off from the runway. The cabin crew opened the door to the plane and I followed the guys off of the plane. The mothers in the deck chairs looked up from their magazines as I got onto the steps. Since the boys were in uniform, it was pretty good bet they were curious to see who was so important that they required three obvious bodyguards. I was suddenly very glad for Ella's choice of travel clothes. They were comfortable and fuss-free but looked infinitely better than the borrowed sweatpants and sloppy t-shirt I'd been planning.

Waiting for us on the tarmac were a small white van with the Reef Knot logo on it and the most badass Porsche I'd ever seen. Leaning on the Porsche was the King of Badass himself. Well he hadn't lied, a man in black was picking me up from the airport, he just didn't say it would be the man in black. Ranger was dressed for a day at the office, in his GQ look, this time with his sleeves rolled up in deference to the heat. He looked damned good, especially lounging against the car like that.

"What, is that?" I asked Ranger, pointing to the car as I approached.

"Hello to you too." He said.

"It's not even been twenty-four hours; I won't believe you for a second if you say you've missed me," I said. He gave my body a slow head to toe scan that clearly implied that he'd like to prove me wrong. Keep it cool Stephanie. Keep it cool.

"A 918 Spyder," Ranger said. If Ranger was sex on legs, this thing was sex on four wheels. It had swooping lines curves, low profile tires, mat black rims and was possibly the prettiest car I've ever seen.

"You can drive it later. Get in." He walked round to the driver's side and angled in.

I got in the car and settled into the rich new leather and prepared myself for the roar of the super car's engine. I was betting it was a V10 or V12. Ranger started the car and there was nothing. I sat up straighter in the seat. "Well, that's disappointing," I said.

Ranger grinned, "It's a hybrid. It doesn't do anything cool until you put your foot down."

He pulled up to the gates, similar to the ones back in New Jersey, and they made the same metal scraping on concrete sound and we made a right hand turn directly onto Reef Knot Road. From what I saw on the map, Reef Knot Road ran all through the community, it snaked and wound around the shopping district, the grocery store and basically anything commercial. The residential streets all came off of Reef Knot and were designed after the knots they were named after.

The street our house was on, was part of a knot called Sheep Shank. A sheepshank is a knot that is used to shorten a rope by folding it back on itself and holding it in place with a locking loop on either end. What this meant in terms of road design was that while you entered the knot through Sheep Shank Way, there was also a sheep Shank Road that ran parallel to it but did not intersect with Reef Knot Road. The two loops were called First Bight and Second Bight. Our house was on Second Bight. To access Second Bight you'd have go down Sheep Shank road, you'd think that since First Bight intersected with Sheep Shank Road, we could just turn down Sheep Shank Road when we got to the intersection, but it was one way, so you were forced to follow the loop of first bight before you could get onto Sheep Shank Road and follow it down to second Bight. Ranger wasn't kidding when he said it was needlessly complicated.

There were four houses on Second Bight, ours was positioned at the apex of the loop, the house was surprisingly close to the road, and in a land of fancy interlocking brick driveways, and ornate tropical gardens, our house had a simple short driveway with a no fuss, low maintenance and a couple of topiaries. While every other house in Sheep Shank was based on designs from bygone eras and far off places, our house was looked like a big white, modern box, stacked on another, flatter and wider big modern box. The lower box was a large three car garage, the doors to each bay, were white with large, opaque, blue-green glass panels. The front door to the house was at the top of a no-nonsense staircase, was about fifteen feet tall and very solid looking. It also looked newer than the rest of the house, so I'm betting it was modified to be a reinforced security door.

Ranger pressed the remote for the garage door and the bay furthest from the house opened. Inside the garage were a black F150, identical to his truck in Trenton, and a sleek black 4 seater golf cart… if one can call a golf cart sleek.

"The cart is yours," Ranger said. I'd sort of gathered that. Ranger wasn't exactly the golf cart type. In fact, I couldn't picture anyone who was less suited to riding around in a golf cart than Ranger. Even in one that had black everything, including mat black rims, he'd just look wrong.

The garage was pristine on the inside, uncluttered by usual garage debris, like yard tools. The walls a stark white, the floor was a shiny pale grey. Ranger led me up a set of floating steps to the interior door of the house and slid an electronic key into the lock. Instead of turning the key, he waited for a beep and then the locks disengaged and the door opened about an inch. That was for sure a modification of his. He pushed the door the rest of the way opened and I followed him into paradise.

The house was all clean lines and modern furniture, like I had been expecting, but you hardly noticed that. That wasn't the point of the house, the simplicity was there so what you did notice was the openness of it all. The back of the house was made up of glass walls that existed on a track and slid open so the entire living room and kitchen became part of the outdoor living space. The long rectangular pool turned out to be an infinite pool that looked out over the ocean. The hot tub was at the ocean end of the pool and slightly raised giving off a waterfall effect. The house's dining room was outdoors and jutted out over the pool with thick glass tile floors that made it look like it was part of the pool itself. Surrounding the pool were several comfortable looking lawn chairs and to the right of the pool on a raised platform was a big round bed with a retractable dome awning. And everything was either white or made of glass.

"You are really into the monochromatic aren't you?"

"Hmm?" he asked. While I stood staring at everything, Ranger had gone to a glossy white credenza that was under an 80-inch curved flatscreen television.

"Did you choose the house because of the one colour thing?" I asked.

He looked around as if considering the decor for the first time, "It came like this. Everything is serviceable and comfortable. Didn't see a reason to change it."

"It's beautiful, I just think you're brave to let me loose in a house this pristine," I said.

He thought about smiling and opened the drawer to the credenza and produced an Omega watch box and brought it to me. He popped it opened revealing an elegant and simple chronograph with a rose gold and stainless steel band and an iridescent face. There were no diamonds on it, no excessive bling, but there was no question the watch was expensive.

"More of the looking the part thing?" I asked. I was wearing a digital he'd given me when I was helping him deal with Orin. I never took it off now.

"More of the 'keeping you as safe as I can' thing. Consider it an upgrade." he took the digital off of my wrist and slipped on the cool metal band. "Premise is the same as the old one, it lets me know where you are at all times but there have been a few changes. The centre knob controls the date and time, the bottom button deals with the stopwatch. The top button allows me to hear whatever is going on around you. Press the button twice to activate that feature. Press the top and bottom buttons together and everyone in Rangeman will immediately hear anything you say and an emergency beacon is set off. The beacon is designed to ping off of cell towers, radio towers and satellites, unless you're in the bottom of a mine, we'll be able to find you. If you think you might be going into a mine, activate it before you go down."

"And if I can't get at the buttons, like with Orin?" I asked. I'd accidentally activated the watch while my wrists were duct taped. Since Orin was about to set me on fire at the time, I was okay with the accidental activation.

"Bang your watch hard against something." He said, "This thing has been designed to withstand anything short of being run over by a train so you don't have to be gentle."

"So Q, does it have like poison arrow darts or a mini grappling hook too? Like is James Bond jealous?"

"You done?" he asked. I wasn't but I nodded anyway. He finished fastening the band and pressed the top button twice and I felt a soft double tap against my wrist that startled me, "So you can't accidentally be overheard. You'll know when the watch is active. It taps three times if you set off the emergency beacon. If you wish to deactivate it because of a false alarm, you have to say you're Rangeman ID number clearly and the words 'Commissioner Gordon'."

"Really?" I said with a grin.

"I wanted it to be something you'd remember." He said.

"How long have you been hanging on to this?" There was no way he just had this made, he put a lot of thought into attempting to correct the flaws in the other watch.

"It was going to be your Christmas present but there were some proprietary technology issues we needed to resolve."

He took me on a tour of the rest of the house. There was a second floor that was dedicated to just the master bedroom that instead of having curtains or blinds, had liquid crystal glass that went opaque and then black at the press of a button. The bed was an enormous white cloud of fluffy duvets and pillows, the carpet was a white deep pile, the bathroom, like everything else was plain white marble and opaque turquoise glass. There was no tub, probably because of the enormous hot tub, instead there was a shower that made Ranger's shower in Trenton look basic. It was designed for showering with a friend, with two opposing shower heads, one lower than the other.

Attached to the bedroom was a home gym that was basically just a treadmill and weight bench that looked out over the ocean.

The kitchen was attached to the indoor-outdoor dining room and consisted of one long island and one bank of cabinets, a fridge that matched the glossy white cabinets, there was a four burner gas cook top, and in the island were the oven and dishwasher. This was not a gourmet kitchen, this was a beautifully designed, serviceable kitchen. There was a distinct lack of toaster, coffee maker, or microwave. Considering these were my most used cooking tools, I was a little put out. The toaster and coffee maker needed to be acquired ASAP and I foresaw a lot of take out in our future.

The basement was to be Hector's domain. He was here to do something with Reef Knot's servers and to monitor the house for any electronic surveillance that wasn't ours. His bedroom was beyond the kitchen, it was small and the only access to his basement was through a door in his closet. I guess the previous owner had installed a massive, secret, wine cellar which Hector had converted into his base of operations.

Next to Hector's bedroom was a home office that opened up onto the pool the same way the rest of the house did. There were two desks, one with Ranger's usual setup on it, the other with a charge cable for my computer and a cradle for my cell phone.

It was 80 degrees out, the breeze was rustling through the palm trees and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I shrugged off the leather jacket and put it over my desk chair. I pulled my hair to one side, I could already feel it frizzing. This week was the week that wouldn't end, I needed this.

"Am I being punished for something?" Ranger asked, directly in my ear. Sending shivers down my spine.

"Wh-what?"

"You're wearing that dress and you've been keeping your distance." he said, "Am I being punished for something?"

"N-no…" I said, turning to face him, "I just…"

I just what? I just didn't want to get too used to the hello and goodbye kisses because I was worried they were going to stop as soon as this job was over? I just had trouble sleeping last night because I kept wondering what the hell he meant by saying I was the exception to every rule? I just didn't want him to know just how much I did miss him last night?

"I just forgot what Ella said about how much you liked this dress."

"Liar," he said. He put his hand on my hip and drew me close, his lips grazed mine, in the lightest kiss ever, "I missed you too."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thank you for all of your reviews! You're all very sweet and I'm glad you're enjoying my story. I wish I owned the characters, but they belong to J/E. The mistakes are all mine though... Yay?**

Our kiss was interrupted by a light tone emitting from the wall mounted television above Ranger's desk. He glanced at the screen and stepped back, "We're being invaded."

I turned and looked up. The video was split, showing the front step and the driveway. The entryway was empty, but the driveway was filled with vehicles. There was a Rangeman Explorer accompanied by two white cargo vans. Hal and Cal got out of the Explorer and Hector, the driver of one of the vans, proceeded to begin unloading the van. They had one dolly filled up when what looked like a squad car pulled into what little space was in the lot. Two men in police style uniforms got out of the car and showed some ID to Hal.

"We're under arrest too; it would appear," I said.

"They could try." Ranger said with a smirk, "Security is here to program our keypads. The vans will be Hector's luggage." Hector didn't pack light. Though to be fair, I doubt it was an extensive wardrobe being unloaded in a bunch of heavy duty pelican cases.

"I'm guessing we're not relying solely upon their systems though?"

"That would be a no," Ranger said, "I'm taking additional precautions."

"Such as?"

"There will be additional motion-activated cameras around the perimeter of the property, sensors around the windows, electronic locks, and a keypad in the bedroom closet that you'll set before you go to bed at night," he said. That did not sound nearly paranoid enough for Ranger; there was more only he wasn't saying.

"And?" I said.

"What makes you think there's more?" He asked.

"Ranger…"

"There are trackers sewn into all of the clothes Ella packed for you," Ranger said.

"Ranger,"

"Babe."

"Are there trackers sewn into all of my clothes, period?"

"Maybe."

"Did it ever occur to you that it might be a little intrusive?"

"It could be worse; I've thought about stabbing you in the ass and injecting you with a subcutaneous tracker. It would be cheaper." He said.

"In most states this is considered stalking."

"Everybody needs a hobby," Ranger said and kissed me on the forehead.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Miami?" I said and folded my arms across my chest.

"We have an appointment with a man named Roy; he's the head of Reef Knot Security." Ranger said and checked his watch, "And he's late. Not a good sign. Was Lester able to get you the crime scene reports?"

"Sort of." I said, "There were no pictures, and they have actually redacted large sections of their forensic reports. Apparently, Roy wasn't willing to send that information over the internet. Lester assured him that our encryption was second to none, but it didn't wash."

"Really." Ranger said, sounding mildly annoyed, "And Lester didn't have Hector go into their server to take their files anyway?"

"According to Lester, everything was done by hand," I said, "and the photos were taken on a film camera; there is nothing in their system to take. The reason it took so damned long to get the stuff to us in the first place was because they had to scan the reports."

"That's inconvenient." Ranger said, "But an effective security measure if you're afraid you're being hacked."

There was a knock on the office door and Hal popped his head in, "Where do you want the case files?"

"Put it all in the dining room for now. I don't want Roy or any of the security staff, anywhere near the office; they aren't to know of the security improvements we've made." Ranger said. Hal nodded and left the office. Ranger reached behind me and pressed a button under the edge of his desk and the whir of a small electric motor engaged. The glass panes that made up the walls slid closed. Once they were in place, Ranger pressed another button and the views of the ocean, and the pool vanished; replaced by soft turquoise opaque glass.

"Okay that's just cool," I said.

"The people who built the house were techies. Lots of gadgets," He said.

"That's really why you agreed to live here. This place is so damn, _you_." I said.

"Maybe." He said again, this time with a grin.

We walked back through the kitchen to the dining room where I flipped the lids off of the file boxes and opened up my laptop. Ranger, using water glasses as weights, unrolled the map and we got to work. With a red Sharpie he circled the seven houses that had been hit so far.

There were twelve residential 'streets' in Reef Knot, and they were like mini communities in the larger community. Each knot had a section dedicated to short-term rental properties. In our Knot, those rental properties were located on First Bight. In others, they were similarly closer to the main road than most of the long-term lease properties. He circled the rentals in green. I read him a list of dates and he noted each date on a small post-it and stuck them onto specific properties.

The location of these rentals was of interest because Chief amongst our suspects was a man by the name of Aaron Nordrake. Nordrake was a bachelor in his early thirties. Ten years ago he won the State Lottery and took home $34 Million dollars. He immediately started to burn through the money, and one of the things he attempted to do was get property here in Reef Knot. Despite strong encouragement from the membership board to accept him, Chase refused and told Nordrake that it was because at the rate he was burning through the money, he'd be broke in three years. This scared the hell out of Nordrake and he asked Chase to help him prevent that from happening. Chase put him in touch with a wealth management advisor and took Nordrake under his wing. One of the first things Nordrake did, was put a chunk of his money into a Hedge Fund called Scion Capital. Scion's famous shorting of the housing market netted him a gazillion dollars; now he was spending his life living off of the proceeds of that investment and he rivaled Chase when it came to personal capital.

He was on our watch list because, although he was now eligible to lease one of the properties, he had refused and instead jumped from rental house to rental house in the community. He didn't socialize with any of the "Permanent Residents" instead he made his friends among the others on the waitlist and seemed content to move multiple times a year living in one of the short term rental units or, when they weren't available, one of the larger suites in the hotel. On three occasions a break-in occurred the same day he moved into one of the rentals in the same knot as the break-in. Two more of the break-ins coincided with moving days, both times he was relocating back to the hotel.

Last night Ranger and I both made that connection and had Lester start running a program that would look for all of the various connections between Nordrake and the victims. The program had finished running sometime in the middle of the night and I had the report in front of me. It was disappointing.

"Ranger," I said, "I think we should take Nordrake off of the list of suspects."

"Why?" He was reading one of the redacted to the point of being useless, crime scene reports.

"The program is showing that in the last year he's occasionally shared airspace with each of the victims simply by being the the same restaurant as they are. They don't share cleaning staff, he doesn't buy anything here but groceries and booze, and they have none of the same friends. Any connections they do have appear to be club related."

"And?"

"The more I think about it, whoever is doing this, has to know the victims pretty well."

"Gut feeling?" Ranger asked. He trusted my instincts; even if all I had was a gut feeling, he'd probably roll with it.

Ranger sat down on one of the dining chairs. Like everything the table was hyper-modern. It was a glossy white, clean lined creation that could easily seat twelve. The chairs were white basket chairs, the weave resembling a bunch of intermingling tree branches. Ranger's black clothing was a sharp contrast against the whiteness of everything; since Ranger usually preferred blending in, I wondered if he would switch to all white clothing in this house and then thought about how weird that would be. I pushed this thought from my mind and forced it back to work.

"The break-in with the dog? The dog is an enormous Rottweiler; according to the report there was no evidence of blood anywhere in the house, and the dog wasn't drugged, which probably means he didn't feel like this person was a threat. If I were to break into a house just to be a pain in the ass, the only way I go to a house with a dog that big, is if I know the dog." I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

"And if the dog is like, Bob?" Ranger asked.

"Bob looks like he can be bribed with a pizza and a hug," I said. "Sure, lots of Rotties are super sweet and can be bought with food; but unless you're Ceasar Milan, I don't think you'd be willing to take that risk unless you knew the dog personally."

"I think Ceasar's alibi is pretty solid," Ranger said dryly.

"What does Chase think?" I asked.

"He thinks that Nordrake is a good kid, but he's big on practical jokes and has the financial wherewithal to afford the equipment to pull off the security bypass."

"I think it's a reach."

"It's your investigation," Ranger said, "And I'm inclined to agree with your logic, but I think it's a bit early to be scratching people off our suspect list."

I was about to say something more when a loud, clear tone filled the dining room. "Is that the doorbell?" I asked.

"So it would seem," Ranger said. He hit an app on his phone and a smaller image of what we could see on the TV in the den, appeared on the screen. On the front step was a blonde dressed in a hot pink floral sundress, holding an enormous covered basket, the handle nestled in the crook of her left elbow, "Answer the door; I'll clean this up."

I walked to the massive front door, and tried the latch; it wouldn't budge, and there was no knob or deadbolt to turn. I looked around the door for a clue and to the left of the frame was a big blue button that said, "Push to open." I pressed the button and heard the locks release before I turned the latch and opened the door.

The blonde greeted me with a big toothy smile. She had matched her lipstick to her nails and her dress, I was basically looking at a life-sized Barbie with green eyes.

She stuck out her hand and I took it, "Hi, my name's Nadia," she said, "You must be Mrs. Manoso!"

"Actually, it's Stephanie Plum," I said. Her smile froze for a second.

"Oh I'm sorry, my husband handles the real estate here; he told me you were the Manosos."

"My fiancé is the Manoso; we're not married yet," I said.

"Oh," she said, drawing out the syllable, "That makes sense; he thought you were married."

"We're in no rush," I said brightly, "Would you like to come in?"

"I've always wanted to see inside this house," She said as she stepped past me into the vestibule, "The place that used to be here was an absolute monstrosity, and thankfully it got wiped out in the last hurricane. Roman, hired this fantastic contractor, the same man who did the revamp of our place, anyway, he hired this guy, total rockstar and gave him carte blanche. The couple who moved in here were a total snooze and never gave any tours once the property was finished. And it wasn't like we weren't dropping hints with the subtlety of landmines!"

Nadia hooked her arm through mine and we wandered in the general direction of the kitchen.

"What happened to the former tenants?" I asked.

"Romy bought them out. They were moving out west and decided that they didn't want to be here anymore. Oh my goodness, I can't get over how white it is in here. I love it, but I can tell you aren't planning on kids anytime soon, they'd destroy this in seconds."

"Let's just say that at this point in my life, kids scare the hell out of me," I said, "Ranger is probably even less enthusiastic on the subject than I am."

"Ranger? I thought his name was Ricardo?"

"It is," I said, "But we met on the job, and he was introduced to me as Ranger, calling him anything else is weird."

"I love office romances. I know everyone says they are a bad idea, but honestly, where else are you going to meet someone who shares your interests once you leave school?" Nadia said. We arrived in the kitchen, and she plopped her giant basket down on the island, "Speaking of business, I'm sure you're wondering why I'm barging in at such an inconvenient time!"

"I'm assuming it has to do with something in the basket?" I said.

"Yes! I know how insane the first day is, most people just say 'hang it all' and go out to dinner, but at this time of year, totally impossible."

"Why?" I asked.

"The restaurants only take advanced bookings if your party is larger than 10, everyone else has to call to make reservations as soon as the restaurants open. All of them are pokey little places, and there are enough of them, but unless you have an assistant calling endlessly until you land a reservation, you will spend your whole day on the phone. Unless it's a special occasion, between March and June, most of us PRs leave the restaurants to the guests."

I'm assuming PRs were permanent residents.

"Good tip; what about take out?"

"I have all the menus for you in here!" she said and patted her big basket, "But you won't need them tonight!"

She pulled the cover off of her hamper and began producing casseroles, salads, desserts, sides, enough food to keep us fed for weeks. Most of it was stuff Ranger wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole; too much fat, mayo, and cheese. Hector and I would eat well, though.

My natural inclination was to immediately rip the lids off of everything and start tasting, however I forced myself to channel my mother or sister and said, "Thank you so much! This is so kind." It felt wrong. I wanted to dive into the pan of brownies that was practically calling to me.

"It's completely self-serving; I drew the lucky straw and got to be the delivery girl. I thought my friend Eve was going to claw my eyes out when I won. We've all been desperate to see this place. That's why we came up with this plan, each dish was made by someone different, and we've all put a label on our containers with our phone numbers on them. When you finish with one, call whoever's name is on the label and we'll come pick it up. It's our excuse to meet you and beg an invitation into this gorgeous pl-" She stopped midthought, her mouth frozen mid-word. There was a splash, and I had a pretty good idea of what, or rather who, had derailed her train of thought. I turned to see Ranger gliding half a length underwater in the pool before he surfaced and began swimming leisurely laps.

"He's not a very social guy," I said, "Please don't be offended if he doesn't come to say hello. He's not shy, so much as he's... Well, he's Ranger. It's hard to explain."

"Sweetheart, he doesn't need to talk," Nadia said. "You say you met him at work?"

"Yup."

"I need to get into your line of work," she said. I'm pretty sure she'd change her tune if she knew it meant getting shot at and having garbage and worse, thrown at you on a regular basis.

Nadia enjoyed the view for a few more seconds and then shook her head.

"Wow, okay," she turned her attention back to the basket, "Here are the take out menus, everything is amazing, so no worries about picking the wrong thing. A word of advice, if you go for Chinese, I swear, there is nobody this side of the Pacific who makes better eggrolls. I'm only telling you that because they will become an addiction and you won't be able to eat eggrolls from anywhere else."

"Good to know," I said, making a mental note to order egg rolls for dinner tonight.

"I've also included a cheat sheet for the area. When the best time to go to the resort pool is, who to book for what spa service, that sort of thing. Emergency numbers for plumbers, pool maintenance, what else?" She rooted around in the basket and produced a white card with pink seashells "Oh, I almost forgot; every Sunday one of the locals hosts a Tail Light party. They are completely informal gatherings, come for a minute, stay for hours, skip it, it's entirely up to you. It's just a way for us locals to celebrate the return to normalcy after all of the visitors go back to their various cities for work."

"Umm, I'll see if Ranger's interested. He's kind of busy right now and his hours aren't regular. We're sort of grabbing every minute to ourselves that we can; it's not been easy lately."

"Honey, I don't blame you for one minute," she said as we watched Ranger hoist himself out of the pool and walk to a deck chair to answer his phone. Must have been on vibrate because I hadn't heard it ring.

He spoke briefly as usual and then hung up and picked up a fluffy white (what else?) towel and began drying off. He tossed the towel onto one of the deck chairs when he was finished and came over to us.

"That was Security; something has come up and Roy's going to be another hour."

"Anything I need to be concerned about?" I asked. Ranger shook his head and subtly cocked an eyebrow at Nadia, "Carlos Manoso, meet Nadia. Nadia, Ranger."

"It's a pleasure to meet you! We've all been so curious..." Her voice trailed off. Ranger wasn't being unpleasant or rude; he just didn't exactly project the small talk vibe.

"Nice to meet you," he said and then kissed my temple, "I have to check in; I may have to head into the city later."

"I'll work on my tan. Hopefully you and Ella remembered to pack me a bathing suit." I said.

"Babe." I wasn't sure if that 'Babe' meant 'Of course Ella packed you a bathing suit; we're in fucking Florida.' or if it meant he was looking forward to seeing whatever she packed. Probably it was both. "I like the blue one."

How is it that he can express a simple color preference and make it sound like he is suggesting something illicit and possibly illegal in some states? He left on that note and after taking a moment to appreciate the view, I glanced at Nadia who was now discretely fanning herself.

She pulled herself together and put the cover back on her hamper, "I'll get out of your hair; I know how busy the first day can be, the last thing you need is someone looking for a good chat. Still you should text me once you get settled, I'll take you on a shopping tour of this place!"

"I'd like that!"

I walked Nadia to the door; she exclaimed over the fancy electronic locks and finger waved as she walked back to her painfully pink Mini-Cooper-esque golf cart.

After I closed the door behind her, I wandered towards the den where I heard Ranger on the phone; so I decided to see just what was so special about the blue bathing suit. Our bedroom was home to a walk-in closet that rivaled Ranger's Trenton closet for size; the only difference was that half of this one was mine.

Ella had provided three suits for me to choose from, all of them bikinis of varying levels of coverage. The blue one was relatively modest as far as bikini's go. It was royal blue, low rise with a gold belt that hung across the hips, the top was a blue halter that tied in the back as well as around the neck. I honestly didn't see what was so special about it until I looked in the bathroom mirror while I was applying my sunblock and realized that my breasts looked absolutely spectacular. Feeling sexier than I usually did, I found a sheer navy and gold striped sarong in the closet and fastened it around my hips and went down to the pool.

I was seriously torn when I got to the there as to where I wanted to lounge. There was a selection of deck chairs right outside of the office, and if I wanted to tempt Ranger, that would be the place to do it. However, the man was really busy, and I'd get to spend more time with him if he got whatever he needed done, finished without a million interruptions. This meant that I had an excuse to try out the bed thingie; so lounge bed thingie it was.

I grabbed my phone from the dining room table and then made myself comfortable. I adjusted the awning to just enough to keep the sun off of my screen and my face, but wouldn't block the sun from dealing with the Casper problem I had going on. I adjusted my sarong so that my legs were exposed, and after falling into a YouTube Vortex for a while, I put my phone down and started thinking about what Ranger said about Nordrake having the money to afford the gizmos to bypass security. I wondered if there was a way to get around it without special doohickies. I checked my email and skipped past the fifty angry emails from Lula and Connie and found the email from Lester with the primer on system cracking.

It was funny and condescending, as promised, but hugely informative. I was half way through the section on exploiting natural faults in many systems when a Ranger shaped shadow fell over me. "You're blocking my sun, Batman."

"I was just going to suggest that you might want to build up a bit of a base tan before you spend too much time out here," he said.

"I'm okay; I'm covered in SPF ten thousand," I said. I put my phone down on the bed beside me and checked my fancy new watch, "Is Roy ever coming?"

"His problem took longer than he thought he would. He was on his way without the files; I sent him back to get them and I told him to take his time."

His prior vexation over Roy's tardiness was forgotten; Ranger was looking at me like I was on the lunch menu. I guess the suit lived up to his expectations. My phone vibrated on the seat beside me, and I picked it up without looking at the display. I was too busy thinking that Ranger might have the right idea about lunch to worry about screening my calls.

"Yo," I answered, my eyes were glued to Ranger's and I was hoping whoever was on the other end of this call would be easy to get rid of.

"Are you on your Fire Escape or something? It sounds like you're outside,"

I smacked the heel of my palm against my forehead. I'm an idiot sometimes; when avoiding certain calls, always, always check you caller ID.

"I am outside," I said. "What do you want Morelli?" Ranger cocked an eyebrow, but none of the heat left his gaze, if anything it went up a notch or two.

"We need to talk," Joe said, "I returned my key yesterday, like an idiot, so I need you to buzz me up."

"I'm busy and I'm not at home," I said.

"Your vehicle is in the lot and your apartment lights are on."

"Joe, I don't have a car right now. My last car got stripped in a hospital parking lot, and Big Blue is safely in my mother's garage."

"Nice try, Cupcake. You drive a white Range Rover, and I know your plates. I know you are avoiding me, and I deserve it. I was a dick because I was running on no sleep, and I wasn't thinking. Listen, I ran into your mother yesterday and she told me what's actually going on. I just want to talk about it. Please buzz me up."

"Hang on," I said and put him on mute. "Did you fix my car again?"

"The guys used a parts car to do the repairs on the Range Rover the first time. Your engine was intact, so all I needed to buy was a new stereo, tires, and alarm system," Ranger said.

"That's probably more than the car was worth, but thanks," I said, "Any idea why someone is in my apartment?"

"Dillon is replacing your radiator. The heat is on in your building but your apartment is still subfreezing."

I took Morelli off of mute, "Ranger had my car fixed, and Dillon is replacing the radiator; I swear I'm not home."

There was a long silence, "Are you staying at his place right now?"

"Yes," I said, "Joe..."

"Your mother told me that this was fake. I know I was acting like an idiot, I should have let you explain. I just want to talk about this, if you still want it to be over after I've actually listened to you like an adult; I can accept that. Seriously Cupcake, I wasn't in control of my actions, I was about to go home and sleep for the first time in nearly 30 hours when I got the first call."

"I didn't break up with you because you lost your temper, Joe. I broke up with you because..."

"Just meet me, please; someplace neutral, like Pino's in ten minutes. I'll buy you lunch."

"Joe, that's not going to work. Ranger..."

"It's the least he can do. After everything I looked the other way for, lunch in a public place is hardly asking a lot."

"That's fair," I said, "It really is. But Joe, Ranger and I aren't..."

"You're not engaged, I know. Your mom told me," Joe said. I was fed up with him cutting me off. If he did it again, I was hanging up.

"What else did she say to you?" I asked.

"She told me that Ranger needed a fiancee for a job he's doing. She said it's not real, but he would be working with people who knew him so his fiancee couldn't be just anyone. Since, anyone with eyes, can see you two have chemistry, he asked you. The proposal was public to lend credibility to his story." Joe said, "I don't like it Steph, but I know what it's like; I've had to do similar things for work recently and..."

"What things?" I asked, giving my phone a side eye.

"I can't say over the phone, but it's why I've been so distant and..." he paused.

I rolled my eyes. Nope, wasn't going there. I honestly didn't care; all Morelli was going to do was piss me off. I've told him I'm done, what else was he expecting? A skywriter? Because if he was, I can't afford one right now, so he could suck rocks.

"Morelli, I'm not in Trenton, I'm actually working with him right now. We might not be... What are you doing?"

Throughout the entire call, I could hear the sound of his car engine running, when I told him I wasn't at home I'd heard him leaving the lot. Now I couldn't hear the background noise.

"I'm not doing anything besides trying to keep my blood pressure below stroke levels." Joe said, "You know he's not entirely above board, are you sure what you're doing is even legal? I have no pull outside of New Jersey; so if you get arrested, I can't help you..."

His voice sounded echoey like I was on speaker phone now and not over the car Bluetooth. Not only that, but I was getting the impression that he was trying to keep me on the phone. He was making his usual Ranger jabs, but there was no heat behind them. It was like when we were having sex and he was distracted by a ballgame; he was doing all of the right things, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. He was saying the stuff to put me into Rhino mode, but he wasn't exactly arguing with me.

"Joseph Morelli, are you tracing this call?" I asked.

"I wouldn't misuse Police resources like that."

"You're fucking lying!" I yelled and hung up the phone. For good measure, I powered it off, and I was very tempted to throw it into the pool.

"He can know where we are; it's not a secret," Ranger said.

"I know it's no secret. I just don't want him turning up here and having another Hawaii incident on my hands." I said. The fight Morelli and Ranger had when Morelli showed up in Hawaii was brutal, and it scared me to the point that I stun gunned them both in the ass so they didn't kill each other.

"It won't be another Hawaii." Ranger said, "You don't have a stun gun this time."

"That's what scares me," I muttered.

Ranger grinned at me and joined me on the bed tugged at the rather loose knot that was keeping my sarong attached to my hips and flipped away the fabric. Now here was a predicament. The two of us, not wearing much, and a bed with a frisky Ranger in it, how could this be a bad thing, right? It wasn't bad; it wasn't bad in any way except I wasn't into it. I wanted to be, but it didn't feel right; it felt like I'd be fooling around because Morelli pissed me off, and it also felt like Ranger was marking his territory.

Ranger is used to my occasional skittishness; he knows when to coax me out of my comfort zone and when it's better just to give me space. He's also a very tactile kind of guy and he expresses himself through touch. Sometimes that touch was sensual, like the way he was trailing the back of his hand across the soft flesh just above my bikini line. When that didn't immediately turn me into a puddle of lust, his hand stopped its teasing journey and flattened on my hip.

"I might have to kill him," Ranger said and rolled onto his back.

"You're going to have to get in line," I said and slumped back against the cushions, "I just don't want to have sex with you because both of us are pissed off at Morelli."

"It wouldn't be the first time I'd have been used as a revenge fuck," Ranger said, "I've never had a problem with it before."

I gave him a half-hearted backhanded slap to the chest, "But I'm not a revenge fuck kind of girl, and even if I was, I wouldn't use you like that."

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I wasn't marking my territory?" he asked.

"I'd probably call you a liar," I said.

"I had other things on my mind," his voice dropped an octave, and he got a wicked look in his eyes. I narrowed mine back at him.

"If you are about to say you were thinking about my soft skin, I'm leaving, because you're definitely just trying to get into my bathing suit," I said.

Ranger deftly whipped the cushion out from behind me and slid me down on the mattress. He pinned me, his leg between mine, carefully not touching anything, but his body heat was tantalizingly close. "I was thinking about the pool in Hawaii; I was wondering if our streak would continue here."

Just like that, all I could think about was the private pool in Hawaii.

"That was a very unlucky pool," I said.

"Yes, it was." he eyed my lips from his position above me and smiled.

"You're such a jerk," I said and started laughing. The smile had not been affectionate; it had been smug. He might have been thinking about the pool before, but he was feeling pretty proud of himself for wiping Morelli from my mind so easily.

"I've been called worse," he said. He gave me a quick (and completely unsatisfying), peck on the lips pushed himself off of me and got off of the bed thingie.

I popped up onto my elbows, "What the hell? Where are you going? I've clearly changed my mind."

"I know," he said, "But I'm not into catering to voyeurs, and Roy's just pulled into the driveway." As if to prove his point, the doorbell rang.

I scrambled off of the bed thingie and jogged over to him and frisked his bathing suit. He cocked an eyebrow, "What are you doing?"

"I'm on to you Batman. Your super senses didn't pick that up; your phone switches to the security feed when someone pulls into the driveway. You totally have the alert on vibrate. That's how you knew."

"Babe," Ranger said and pointed to the dining room table where his phone was lying face down.

"There has to be a trick, and I'll figure it out mister."

"A little mystery in life is a good thing," Ranger said. He smacked my ass and went to answer the door. I would figure it out, I muttered to myself and went to the office to retrieve the boxes Ranger stashed when Nadia showed up.

When I came back out, I found Ranger standing with his arms casually folded across his chest, listening to our guest explain something. Ranger was probably the only man in the world who could look intimidating in a pair of black, board shorts with flowers on them. Mind you, the flowers were also black, but still, not the most intimidating garment in the world and yet the man who I assumed was Roy, was sweating and it had nothing to do with the heat.

Ranger stopped talking to Roy and came over to relieve me of the file boxes. He put them on the table and helped me roll out the map before he made introductions, "Roy, this is my fiancee, Stephanie Plum. Stephanie, Roy Melrose."

"It's a pleasure ma'am," He said with a thick southern drawl. Roy looked like a Roy. He was round, pink, with a shiny bald head and a gut that hung over his belt. He was wearing a short sleeved pale blue shirt with badges that looked like they were official. Upon a closer inspection, his shield didn't have a star on it. Instead, it had a reef knot and the words, 'Knotty Security.'

"I'm sorry Mr. Manoso had to drag you out here for this," he said to me.

"If you knew the weather we've been having in Trenton, you would know that I didn't exactly come here kicking and screaming," I

"Chase has granted us unfettered access to all of your systems," Ranger said, skipping the small talk, "Which means the complete case files. We'd like to read them."

"Yes, I have them here," Roy said. He jogged back to the front door and grabbed a black accordion file box. When he got back to us, he was breathless.

"This is everything?" I asked. I looked at Ranger, yeah, seven separate crime scenes and this is everything they had? Ranger was right; they were out of their depths. "Oh boy."

"What did you look for?" I asked.

"We dusted for fingerprints, and in the case of the first break-in, the owners had a vet examine their dog. We gave you his report," Roy said. I looked into the box and saw seven worryingly thin files.

"I saw it. I'll look over these after you leave; I may have questions for you tomorrow," I said.

"I don't know what I'll be able to tell you, everything we have is in that box. I recorded all of our interviews and had them transcribed by my daughter; if you go through it all, you'll know what I know," he said.

"Talk to me about your current setup," Ranger said.

"During the day, four men work the Security Hut, not including myself. Crime is low here, so we don't need more."

"What does 'during the day' mean?" I asked, "What hours?"

"From 0700 to 2100," Roy said, "Two men watch the monitors and two work the front gate. Once every two hours, two men conduct a patrol of the property. While they do that, either myself or one of the men on gate duty will take over the monitors."

"And after 2100?"

"We have a strict closed-gate policy after 2100. You need to enter your passcode and swipe your card to gain access and any guests arriving after that time must be personally escorted onto the property by a resident." Roy said, "Two men take the night shift, doing patrols and watching the monitors. It's pretty quiet here after dark, lots of retirees and young families you know, everybody is in bed by nine on most nights. During the Christmas Holidays and for Fourth of July we have double the men on duty and the gates are tended around the clock."

"Why? Because people get crazy during the holidays?" I asked.

"No," Roy said, "It's a logistics issue; the traffic in the resort would be an absolute nightmare if we didn't. Unusually heavy traffic, plus the need for people to bring a vehicle to the gate to retrieve their guests; jams things up completely."

"Have you doubled your men since the break-ins started becoming a problem?" Ranger asked.

"No, Chase wants things done quietly, the residents would notice an increased security presence," Roy said. I sincerely doubted that. I was willing to bet that nobody, besides the security staff and now us, knew how many people were on duty at any given time.

"I'm surprised the hotel alone doesn't require more security staff." I said.

"Oh, they operate as a separate entity. SOPs say that if we need backup, we're to contact them, but I've been here since they cut the ribbon on Reef Knot, and I've never had to call them."

"Good to know," I said. Ranger flipped open my laptop and clicked an intraoffice instant messaging program and pulled up Hector's contact information. He quickly sent a message and then straightened. My guess the message was to get Hector looking into any weird crimes in the hotels.

"What happens if you get a call at night?" I asked.

"Both men on duty respond and they forward all phone calls to their cell phones. On a busy night, we might get a handful of calls. Most of them noise complaints, the odd DUI; very few emergencies."

Ranger was keeping quiet but I could almost hear him thinking, and so far he wasn't impressed with the so called 'best security' in the state of Florida. Frankly, neither was I.

"I know what you're thinking; we're very understaffed, but I promise you we aren't. We don't need more staff here, because of the security on the individual properties."

"Enlighten me," Ranger said.

"Reef Knot incorporates natural security combined with some of the most advanced systems in the world. Each property has been designed to use nature's natural defenses in conjunction with manufactured ones. For example, your property, and all of the properties along the boardwalk. The seawall is alongside a narrow and busy channel so parking a boat there is strictly prohibited. Any resident living on the seawall, as you are, would report it immediately. Now let's say they didn't, there is a reason every property is ten feet up from the boardwalk." Roy sounded like a sales pitch, that definitely wasn't the first time he'd given that speech.

"Ten feet is hardly insurmountable," Ranger said.

"Yes, I know that, but there is constant foot traffic along the boardwalk at all times day or night, it's only accessible by guests with key cards. If you broke into someone's property, we'd know because someone would see you and report you."

"Let's say they didn't," I said.

"Like I said, you can only access the boardwalk using a key card; we'd know who it was because it would be on record."

"What if someone decided to jump off of their boat and swim to the seawall, bypassing the need for a card?" I asked.

"That's where the natural defenses come into play." Roy said, "Residents are encouraged to have their cooks clean their fish along the seawall; which means there are plenty of sharks in the area because the water is constantly being chummed."

"Good safety tip, don't swim off of the seawall; if you're not going to be run over by a boat, you'll be eaten by a shark," I said.

"Not to mention, there are a lot of barracuda around here, they don't go after people often, but I still wouldn't want to piss one off," Roy said.

"I'm sticking with the pool where the only predator I have to worry about is him," I said and nodded toward Ranger.

"Those are the natural defenses, what about the high tech?" Ranger asked.

"Each house is equipped with two security pads with two separate seven digit codes; one on the garage and one inside the house. The one on the garage is for use in the event you don't have your garage door opener on you. The one in your house is for the house."

"Seven digits is a lot," I said.

"It's a good idea," Ranger said.

"Why?" I asked.

"For the same reason a phone number is seven digits long; the average person can easily remember seven digits plus or minus three," Ranger said. "The longer the pin number, the less you have to worry about wear on the keypads."

"Which is a problem because?"

"If you are trying to bypass a security system by hacking it, you have limited time to do it, the longer you take, the more likely your hack is to be detected," Ranger said. "If the keypad is new, and you're using a four digit pin, that's thousands of combinations, but if your keypad is a few years old and you never change your pin, the four numbers will show signs of wear, and you can narrow the possible combinations from thousands to hundreds. If you have any repeating numbers, you decrease those permutations even more. With a seven digit pin, you're more likely to use more of the keypad and the possible combinations can be in the hundreds of thousands."

"Increasing the odds of getting caught," I said, 'What happens if you enter the wrong code?"

"You're given 60 seconds to enter the correct code before the alarm goes off and the failed code is entered into the system," Roy said.

"How many shots do you get in that minute?"

"Two," Roy said.

"Do you log that?" I asked.

"Every time you activate and deactivate your alarm, or enter a wrong code, it's recorded on our servers."

"And on the day of these incidents, there were no extra deactivations or anything?" I asked. Roy shook his head.

"What happens if you accidentally set off your alarm?" I asked.

"We are alerted immediately and we call the house; if you don't answer your phone a car is dispatched to investigate. If it is a false alarm and there is no threat, then we use our master code to reset your alarm and we run a test to ensure that everythin is working properly. If it isn't, we repair it and give you a new code."

"And is the master code for the garage different than the one from the house?"

"Just like the homeowners," Roy said, "Only unlike them, every time our Master key is logged it's logged into a different database, and a weekly report is submitted detailing the reason behind its use. If we can't account for each recorded use, we have to make a note of where and at what time it was used, and then we have to contact the homeowner. If they have no recollection of us paying them a visit, we change both sets of codes."

"How often does that happen?" I asked. He shrugged and looked up, doing a mental count.

"The policy has only been around for a few years now, and it's only happened for real, once I think? You see Mr. Chase instituted the policy after he used the master code several times over the course of a month and nobody noticed it. Once he instituted the policy he began periodically using the code to see if we're paying attention and following protocol. So now, most of the time, we record each use as they happen so we don't forget anything and then at the end of the week, if there is something unaccounted for, it's always been Chase."

"And the one time it wasn't?" I asked.

"An employee began dating the daughter of one of the residents, her family has a home in Miami and she was using the house as a love nest. Her father found out and changed the codes. She didn't know and set the alarm off, the employee used his code to disarm it. He was subsequently fired." Roy paused and helped himself to a glass of water, "If you want my opinion, I think we've been hacked and that's how they are getting around the system, it's the only way I can think of. Mr. Chase had some of the best try to beat our keypads and they couldn't. Furthermore, if you try to plug anything into the system that doesn't belong to Reef Knot Security, the alarms will automatically trigger. I'm convinced the fault is with our network security, I've never liked it."

"Hector will be testing your firewalls over the next few days, looking for possible breaches, if there are any, Hector will be monitoring your systems and will hopefully be able to trace the source."

Roy and Ranger continued to talk about network security, at length for some time. Most of it was way over my head, the only thing that I caught in that entire exchage was that Roy used an app to generate a random alphanumeric password for each employee, every Monday. I understand having employees change their passwords often; Ranger changed mine every couple of months at Rangeman. They were always things I would remember with a few random numbers thrown in. But a randomly generated password that changes weekly, for a community with little crime, seemed excessive to me. I was pretty sure, Ranger thought so too because there was a minuscule lift of his left eyebrow when Roy boasted about it.

It was a little after 2:30 when Roy finally made a move to leave. My head was about to explode, and Ranger was becoming less and less responsive as he listened to Roy speak. If I didn't know better, I'd say Ranger was getting bored. Ranger didn't really do bored. If something was uneventful, he used the time to contemplate other things. Since he had to be paying attention to Roy, he couldn't really do that.

As Ranger and I escorted Roy to the door, Roy turned to look at us. "I know I'm supposed to be the only one outside of your company and Mr. Chase to know about the investigation and audit and I am fine with that, but my men want to know who you are and why you're here. This house was slated for a prominent member; he was on top of the short list and then next thing everybody knows, he's being considered for another property because this one is taken by a complete unknown. I'm going to need to give them something."

"Chase and I have known each other since basic training. We were in the same unit until he invalided out at the same time I was selected for Ranger school. He heard I had recently retired from service and was shopping for property in the area. He said the house was mine if I liked it." Ranger said.

"They will buy that," Roy said, "Thanks."

He made it two more steps before he turned again, "Do you know when you'll be starting the audit?"

Ranger didn't answer and kept his face impassive. Roy looked at me, and I gave him a little shrug. "Right, sorry, shouldn't have asked. I mean how could you know? You have to do the investigation first, and who knows how long that will take, right?" he let out a nervous little laugh and then coughed when that didn't produce a reaction. He stood there awkwardly for a few seconds before he coughed again and turned and left.

We went back to the pool and I flopped onto the daybed thingie.

"Is it still March?" I asked Ranger and he looked at his watch.

"According to this, unbelievably, it's still the same day it was when he got here. I'm worried it might be broken," he said.

"Oh my god! I was right; you were bored!" I said.

"Doesn't happen often." Ranger said.

"I don't know what the protocol is for this; do you need a pill or should I take you to the range so you can shoot something? I can't imagine you bored is any safer than Lula when she's bored."

"Babe," Ranger said. He was less than thrilled about the comparison to Lula.

"Well she goes a bit nuts and you, well you're already just this side of being batshit crazy and..." I yelped as Ranger yanked me up off of the bed thingie, tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried me towards the pool. "No no no don't throw me in! I take it back you're not just this side of batshit crazy..." He paused in his progress, "I would never mean to imply that you would do anything by half measures; you're completely batshit crazy!"

His shoulders shook with laughter as he put me down with my feet on the top step inside the pool. The water was a perfect 78 degrees, but the marble step was smooth, and I clung to his forearms so I didn't slip at the sensation of suddenly being right side up again. I looked up at him as soon as I had my footing and I was still laughing a bit when he kissed me.

It was one of those kisses that start off as kind of sweet but then escalated quickly, and it didn't take long for his hands to start working on the knot of my halter top. This is what Ranger meant about the unlucky pool in Hawaii. We had issues with pools. I'd never had sex in a swimming pool, a fact I voiced while we were in Hawaii together. Ranger, being the gentleman that he is, offered to help me with that problem. I've still never had sex in a pool because every time we try, we would get close to the pool and would never actually make it into the water. Ranger blamed it on the bathing suits I had in Hawaii; I blamed it on the pool being too far away.

"This pool is luckier," I said against his lips. I felt him nod slightly as he joined me on the top step. He finally got the knot undone and had just flicked open the snap at the back when we both froze at the sound of a decidedly matronly gasp followed by the sound of Hal cussing.

Ranger shielded me as I struggled back into my bikini top, then I acted as a shield for his rather obvious problem when we turned to face them. Hal was looking anywhere but at the pool, his face was brilliant red. The woman with him was in her early sixties, dressed in a pair of yellow Bermuda shorts, a white knit top and she looked shocked to her flipflops.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was intruding! This young man said you were back here with Mr. Melrose." She said, "I wanted to introduce myself and discuss something with Roy; I had no idea..." she trailed off when she realized she was babbling.

"I swear boss, Hector said you were still back here with Roy, I didn't realize..." Hal said. He stopped at the look on Ranger's face.

"Office." Ranger said. Hal bolted for the office door, and Ranger stepped out from behind me and onto the pool deck. I was about to follow him when he turned, flashed me a grin, planted his palm square in the centre of my chest and pushed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for your reviews! I am really glad you're enjoying my story! Fair warning, I'm going to play a bit fast and loose with canon a bit; not much, but some. As always, it belongs to JE... except the mistakes, I make them all by myself.**

I flung my arms out and waved them frantically in a failed attempt to not fall backward. I hit the water with a giant splash and came up spluttering. Ranger, the bastard, was nowhere to be seen.

The woman found Ranger's discarded towel and brought it to me as I hauled myself out of the pool. "I'm going to kill him," I said. But when I rubbed the towel over my face and caught a big whiff of Ranger smell my animosity faltered and decided that maybe murder was a bit harsh. There would be revenge, definitely, but I wouldn't kill him.

"Maybe he thought you could benefit from a cooling off?" she suggested.

"No, I compared him to a husky former prostitute with a flamboyant approach to life; I might have had it coming," I said. She looked at me like she was worried I may have hit my head when he pushed me in, "It's a long story."

"It would have to be," She said with a laugh, "Maybe I should pretend I didn't see any of that and just introduce myself?"

"That would be great," I said, "And if you could also pretend you don't notice that as my hair dries I start resemble a chocolate poodle with a bad perm, that'd be awesome too."

She laughed again; it was one of those bright, genuine laughs that you knew came easily.

"My name is Phylis Wilson, and I'm really sorry for barging in. I hope that young man isn't going to be in too much trouble?" We shook hands, and I gave her my name.

"Nah, Ranger will just threaten to send him to Turkmenistan; he won't actually do it. He likes Hal," I said, "What can I do for you?" I picked up my discarded sarong and tied it back around my hips.

"It's more what I can do for you," She said, "I'm hoping that by offering you some sound advice you'll forgive me for what's likely to happen tonight."

"Oh Boy," I said. She was a nice lady, at least she seemed like a nice lady, but people who come bearing peace offerings in advance, usually seriously undersold whatever it was that was about to happen.

"You look terrified!" Phylis laughed, "It's nothing bad, I promise! You see I live next door, and my niece is having her 21st birthday party tonight. She and a few friends are out on our fishing boat right now, snorkeling and that, and they will be back sometime this evening for a small gathering. I'm warning you because it's likely you'll hear the music. We only agreed because there nobody was living here and Anna, who lives on the other side of us, is in France this week. We had no idea that you'd be moving in so quickly. Most of the time when there is a change of ownership, it takes months for someone to move in because they have decorators take over."

"The vacation was necessary," I said, "We'll hang out here for a while before we decide if we want to change anything and put ourselves through the stress of a renovation."

"Very reasonable," Phylis said, "If you require a decorator, I've got a name for you; just let me know when you're ready. Now, for my sage advice?"

"Please,"

"Just scrape everything in your welcome basket right into the garbage. Don't even attempt to taste it. They use 'healthy substitutions' in their food, and everything ends up tasting like chalk or has no taste at all. It looks good, but just don't assault your taste buds with it," she said.

"I was thinking Chinese," I said.

"Order the Egg Rolls and DimSum tonight, and hit up the grocery store tomorrow."

"To be honest, we'll probably just stick to take out for a while, neither of us are big cooks," I said.

"You don't need to be. Go in and speak to Charles at the deli counter; I'll call and tell him you're coming. What you'll do is work out a meal plan together, and he'll whip everything up for you. You just have to pick it up every morning and reheat it when it's supper time. It's a bit inconvenient because you have to drive there every morning, but it does mean you don't have to live on takeout every night."

"Given that my culinary skills extend to making a mean peanut butter and olive sandwich, and knowing the perfect ratio of milk to Froot Loops, it's not inconvenient at all."

Loud microphone feedback screeched at us from next door, and she winced, "That will be the DJ my sister has hired to come on after the band. They will be doing that sound check next. Do you mind if I hide here until it's over? My sister has been driving me crazy all day."

"No I don't mind," I said. I did after all, have to get to know the neighbors, and if anyone understood the need to hide from overbearing family, it was me.

"The whole reason my sister is going all out is because my niece has hit it off with this human rights attorney. She's hoping that they will get together at this party. She's going to be absolutely crushed when she finds out he called this morning to say he's being sent to Luxembourg by his firm for a few weeks." Phylis said.

"What about your niece? Isn't she going to be unhappy?"

"Nope, he's filling her suite at the hotel with flowers and an apology letter. I think she'll be all right." Phylis said, "Honestly this whole thing makes me glad that all of mine are settled and finished giving me grandchildren. What about you? Any kids?"

"No, but Ranger has..."

"Ranger?" she said, snapping to attention. I could see her mind working, and she snapped her fingers in triumph, "That's it! That's why I recognized you both! He has a daughter from a previous marriage, who was kidnapped a couple of years ago; her name is Julie Right?"

"That's right," I said.

Wow, Ranger called that. It was big news in Trenton, but it wasn't something people thought about very much anymore, and it was over as soon as she was reunited with her mother. Then again, their pictures were on the television in Miami for much longer.

"I remember because my granddaughter is a Julie, and she was brand new through all of that. My daughter was beside herself every time they showed pictures of Ranger and Julie on the news."

"You know he didn't kidnap her right?" I said. It could be a bit tricky if all she remembered was that Ranger was the primary suspect in the kidnapping. I was pretty sure a lot of doors were going to slam shut if that was the case.

"I remember!" She said, "When the truth came out it was all anyone could talk about for days. The whole story was so sensational! A man who wanted to be Ranger, kidnapped Julie and married some woman so he could assume your man's life. Then he killed his wife when she didn't measure up, so you volunteered to be bait because you were his type. You allowed yourself to get kidnapped so they could track you to the little girl. It went from Ranger's face on the front page of every paper as a dangerous suspect to the two of you with the words HEROES plastered all over everything."

"I didn't realize it was such a sensation out here. In Trenton, we made the papers maybe twice when it was over."

"Oh, it was huge here. Probably because the press release was so vague about you both. All it said was that you volunteered, and they chose you because you'd worked with law enforcement before on some high profile cases. Is that how you met?"

This was my opportunity to change the subject. All I'd have to say is, "I'm sorry; I know it seems exciting, but mostly what I remember is being tied to a chair and watching helplessly as the man I love got shot multiple times at point-blank range." But I was playing the part of a girl who was newly engaged, and since every woman with a shiny new rock on her finger thinks her love story is the greatest thing since Romeo and Juliet, I'd look more like the part if I told ours with little prompting.

"Actually, no. We met when I decided to become a Bounty Hunter; he was the one who trained me. There were sparks between us pretty much right away; only I didn't notice because I was too busy being pissed off at the world. He liked that about me. Once I got over that, we flirted a lot, dated casually off and on for a while but we've always been really close. Since it wasn't exactly a secret, it made sense for me to be bait because we figured Scrog didn't just want someone who looked like me, he wanted me."

"And you weren't together at the time?"

"We were more like best friends with really awesome benefits," I said, "It was during that case, just after it was all over in fact, that I was in love with him. I'm pretty sure that's when he realized he loved me too, and that there was something more than friendship between us."

"So the kidnapping made you pull your heads out of the sand?"

"Not exactly." I said, wincing, "He got shot, and that was my wake-up call. When he woke up in the hospital, I meant to tell him I loved him and instead I fell apart. He ended up telling me to stop trying before I hurt myself."

"He didn't!" She said and laughed.

"He did," I said with a grin, "We got there in the end; it just took us a while. That's why we're here, he's been away for a while, he proposed when he got back and, well, my life is a bit complicated back home, we're here because I needed to run away."

"How long once you got together before he proposed?" she asked.

"About a week?" I said, "He isn't a man to waste time once he's made his mind up and he's sure of the outcome."

"You were a foregone conclusion then, were you?" She teased. I picked up my phone and showed her the picture of Ranger looking smug in the diner.

"Does that look like a man who's nervous about proposing?" I asked dryly.

She burst out laughing, "Not at all, and he should be because you look like your torn between being thrilled and wanting to kill him."

"That's because I was," I laughed, "We met in that exact booth, so it was romantic and everything. The problem was that we were keeping things between us pretty quiet. Nobody, and I mean nobody, not friends, not family, _nobody,_ knew that we were finally serious about each other. Then he decides to pop the question in one of the busiest diners in the city, in front of the biggest gossips in the city? My mom had the news we were engaged before he finished putting the ring on my finger."

"Oh, I can just imagine! I'd be having kittens if I were your mother!"

"Babe," Ranger said, before I could respond, He was standing in the kitchen doorway. To my disappointment, he had changed out of his bathing suit back into his clothes from earlier. His expression was serious, his gaze assessing as I sat there at the table with Phylis. Worried I might have said too much, I excused myself from the table so I could talk to him in the semi-private of the doorframe.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Hal and Cal are finished helping Hector with his setup downstairs. I'm going to give them a lift out of here; I shouldn't be long."

"Am I sticking too close to the truth? Am I saying too much?" I asked under my breath, "I'm trying to look the part, but I don't want to say more than you're comfortable with."

"I trust your instincts," he said. He tilted my chin up the good humor that had been just below the surface since he picked me up from the airport was gone. He was looking at me now like he could tell every thought that was running through my head, and he was looking for answers, "I trust you."

With that he gave me a goodbye kiss so hot, I was sure it was going to dry my hair and while I was trying to remember my name, he left. I turned to Phylis, who was looking down at her hands, giving us some privacy. I felt my face turn a bit red as I sat down at the table with her again.

"God, I love those Special Forces types," She said, "They are all intensity and testosterone. It's invigorating."

"How did you know? I'm pretty sure the Feds kept that information from the papers."

"My Uncle was Special Forces. He lived with us when he wasn't shipped out to parts unknown," She said and smiled at some memory, "Occasionally his buddies would visit. He had this one friend, I don't know if I ever learned his real name and if I did I've forgotten it, but they called him Slingshot. I had the most monumental crush on him. He was quite a bit younger than the rest of my Uncle's friends, and I used to dream of having his babies."

"What happened?" I asked.

"The night after I graduated from college my uncle had a poker night at the house, and I came home just as Slingshot was leaving. I'd just broken up with my boyfriend; I was upset and a bit drunk and told him that I was swearing off men and sex because men were assholes and sex was overrated. He said he agreed with the first part, but he couldn't live with himself if he left me believing the second. He kissed me, like Ranger just kissed you now, and told me that if I was feeling brave when I was sober, I should give him a call."

"Did you?" I asked.

"I did, and then I spent a week in New York admitting I was wrong. Then he and my uncle shipped out, and I didn't see him or hear from either of them again for almost three years. By that time, I'd met my husband and was pregnant with my daughter."

"How awkward was that?" I asked, half laughing.

"It wasn't, I had no illusions when he left that it was anything more than a week of fantastic sex," she said, "When I saw him again he said I looked good knocked up and congratulated my husband. I was, and am, so in love with my husband that the heat that was between Slingshot and I had fizzled out. Of course, my husband knew about him and that week in New York, so he turned into a bit of a gorilla on me, but I benefitted from his posturing, so I was completely okay with it."

"Yeah, we've done the week of sin thing, it didn't deal with the heat so much as it added fuel to the fire," I said. We spoke for another fifteen minutes or so, she asked about our wedding plans and I told her. She told me all about her wedding with her great grandmother's dress and having to wear a corset and a massive hoops skirt down the aisle. She shared her own whirlwind romance with her husband. Eventually, she checked her watch and got to her feet.

"It has been an absolute pleasure Stephanie, and I really wish I didn't have to go," she said, "I would like to invite you both to dinner. We'll do it next Sunday if you're open to it; that way you have a ready made excuse not to attend one of those competitions masquerading as a backyard barbecue."

"I'd like that, but I can't speak for Ranger. There is some crisis at the Miami branch so until that's resolved he's working odd hours."

"I understand, and since you're here celebrating, the last thing you want to deal with is a bunch of social obligations. But if he's working and you don't want to sit home alone, we're back Friday, pop by anytime."

"You're leaving?" I asked.

"Are you crazy? I did say I was hiding here didn't I? You think I'm going to stick around to watch a bunch of prepubescent kids with a new found ability to drink legally, pretend to dance to music that is nothing more than a bunch of other prepubescent kids whining to a beat? No, thank you. There is a reason why I came over her to apologize in advance; we're gone until the Millennials vacate my home."

I saw Phylis out and went back to the pool, this time picking a shady spot, listening to Ranger's recommendation to work on my base tan. That was two of the neighbors down, and I was starting to get a picture of the area. As much as I liked Phylis, it was Nadia I was going to have to befriend. Phylis was my kind of people, but she wasn't a gossip and the judicious use of gossip was where I made my money.

What I needed to do was get a coffee tomorrow at one of the places Nadia recommended, then I was going to get Hector to make a dinner reservation for Ranger and me, he wouldn't spend hours on the phone, he'd just hack their computers. That was for tomorrow; I was going to pretend I was on vacation.

I played with my ring in the sunlight, liking the way the facets when held at just the right angle, caused little rainbows to form. Then I plugged in some headphones, put iTunes on shuffle and closed my eyes. Then opened them again immediately when the first song was something by the Wiggles, that I'd put on my phone when I was babysitting my nieces. I found a playlist I'd labeled mellow and closed my eyes again.

I woke to the feel of Ranger, back in his bathing suit, kissing a scar from the scrog incident, just below my belly button. It was a stupid injury; the cut hadn't even been deep, and I don't even remember how I got it, probably on broken glass or something, but it was there. He found another scar, from another skip, this one on my knee and kissed it too. Then one on my hip and one on my right elbow.

"Kissing me better?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. He settled himself between my legs, but there wasn't really room on the small deckchair, and not even Ranger could defy physics; the chair would flip over if he put any more weight by my head.

"Maybe we should move to the bedroom," I suggested as he nipped at my throat.

"There won't be any more interruptions," Ranger said.

He hitched my legs around his hips and lifted me off of the deck chair, "Where are we going?" I asked.

"Where do you think?"

"It doesn't work, it never works."

"It's a matter of pride now," he said.

There weren't more interruptions, and I learned that Ranger can hold his breath for a very long time, and there is something to be said for the weightlessness that water provides. At some point, we moved on to the bed thingy which was good because when we finished, I really needed a nap.

I woke up from my second nap of the afternoon, under a sheet, still outside, to the sound of Ranger answering his cell phone. "Feed them; tell them I'll be there in an hour. Who is your contact on this one?"

He listened, "No, you want Agent Fields with the FBI, call him and tell him what you suspect. When he tells you to fuck off, drop my name and tell him that I expect to see him with a team at the site in two hours."

Ranger disconnected and pulled his arm out from under me. "That sounded bad," I said.

"It has the potential to be," Ranger said, "I don't know when I'll be back, probably not until sometime tomorrow."

"Can I call you?"

"Yes, I'll let you know if that changes." He kissed me again and went inside to get dressed, he was back within five minutes, checking his guns as he holstered them. I used the sheet as a toga and followed him to the garage.

"So where did you take the boys?"

"Hector is in the basement, where he's informed me he's likely to stay. Hal and Cal are stocking a yacht, that starting tomorrow, will be moored in the bay. They will be looking for suspicious activity along the waterfront."

"So no more sex in the pool," I said.

He grinned, "Not until after the case is over, and I send them home." He kissed me goodbye and got into the 918 and backed out of the driveway. I closed the garage doors and set the alarm before I went back inside, it beeped quickly, three times to let me know I set it correctly and then started a series of long successive beeps until a minute passed and then it did the triple beep again.

At five, Hector came upstairs and looked around the kitchen, muttered something under his breath and left in the truck. He came back an hour later with appliance boxes, one a fancy white Kitchenaid toaster, the other a counter top microwave that looked like it should be on the Jetson's so it fit the decor of the house perfectly. As soon as we found a place for it, he produced a box of pizza pockets and nuked two before he retreated to his cave. Given that he didn't offer me one, I figured that nuking one for myself could be dangerous, so I ordered egg rolls and dim sum.

The party next door started at eight, it wasn't bad, the music was live, and the band was decent. I sat out on the pool deck reading through the rest of Lester's primer and eating the world's greatest eggrolls. I had questions when I was finished, so I emailed them to Lester and decided to call it an early night.

It took some doing, but Hector and I sorted out how to work the walls like Ranger had in his den and once we had it and the walls were opaque I went to bed and set the Rangeman alarm. I couldn't hear the music with the walls closed, and I wondered just what Phylis had been so worried about. Then at midnight, the DJ took over, and I understood.

The techno beat reverberated through the house like we were a giant drum and jolted me out of bed thinking we were under attack. We had no carpet or curtains and very little furniture to dampen any of the noise, and the house had excellent acoustics.

I opened the house back up in the hopes that it would help with the echo chamber effect we had going on. Only now I could hear the god awful music as well as the beat. At 2:00 I called next door to ask them if they could turn the music down a little. They did, it was bearable for about ten minutes, and then they cranked it up even more. I felt like I was living in a rave.

At 3:00 security showed up to tell them to shut the music down. That lasted half an hour, and then they cranked it up again. By now I was starting to go crazy. That's when Hector came upstairs with a laptop and a box that looked like a router the CIA might use. He looked as tired as I felt by this point and he looked just as pissed off. Ten minutes later the power was out next door, and I went to bed.

Only now I couldn't sleep. I had that stupid insomnia where you start thinking about how little time you have left to sleep, and you start getting anxious about how little sleep you are going to get, so it keeps you awake. Somehow, I'd forgotten that I was allowed to sleep in because I made my own hours and since my boss on this job was spending lots of time trying (admittedly not hard) to get me into bed, I doubt he would be pissed if I slept until noon.

Since I had forgotten those points, I tried to ignore how big and empty the giant bed felt, and the annoying clock beside the bed, taunting me with the passage of time and tried to distract myself by trying to figure out how to bypass the security systems. To my absolute surprise, by around five thirty, I had come up with an idea. I jumped out of bed and powered up my laptop typed out the plan so I wouldn't forget it and set the alarm for eight and finally went to sleep.

The clock did not survive when it went off. I was dead to the world when it let out a loud AWOOOOGA. I seized it from the nightstand and hurled it towards the wall. It didn't kill it completely, it now sounded like a pathetic, dying car horn, so I got out of bed and stabbed it with the heel of one of the nearest stilettoes I could find in the closet and then dragged myself into the shower.

When twenty minutes in the shower did not wake me up, I killed the water and stared at myself in front of the mirror. I was looking pretty pathetic so I put some goop in my hair, hoping to prevent frizz and I went to the closet to examine my new wardrobe. I found a pair of bright white shorts and a black spaghetti strap, trapeze style tank top and got dressed. I slid my feet into a pair of flip flops and went down to the kitchen where the smell of coffee was filling the air.

I found Hector, looking as tired as I felt, staring at the pot, willing it to finish dripping. He glanced at me and said, "Killed WiFi" and pointed in the direction of the neighbors. I hugged him. What better revenge could there be for a bunch of millennials than to deny them access to WiFi? The pot finished and he poured two cups and handed one to me.

I took a sip and had to sit down. I think he cut the coffee with Red Bull or something. It made espresso taste like decaf, and I was absolutely in love with it. I drank a cup, looked in the fridge for breakfast, found nothing and decided that I would have to go to the grocery store this morning after I enacted part one of my plan.

I drank my coffee and was starting to feel human by the end of the second cup, so I picked up my phone and texted Ranger.

-Got a minute?

Thirty seconds later my cell rang.

"What do you need?"

"I'm going to trip the alarm, don't pick up the phone when they call you to tell you the alarm has gone off," I said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm trying an experiment," I said, "Can you tell Hector? I don't know if I can mime that."

"Done. Fill me in when I get home; I should be there for lunch." and with that he was gone.

A minute later Hector texted me a thumbs up emoji, and I went to the panel by the front door. I very carefully entered the seven digit code, transposing the two last two numbers on purpose. The alarm let out an alarming trilling noise, and a countdown appeared on the panel. Like that wasn't going to stress you out if you did accidentally fuck up your stupidly long pin. I punched the code in the same way two more times before the alarm sounded. I turned my cell phone off and put it in my pocket and waited. It took ten minutes for a Reef Knot squad car to pull into my driveway where I was waiting to meet the security guard.

He was in his early twenties, about five ten, with chocolate skin, an athletic body and engaging smile. His partner was in the car and toasted me with his paper coffee cup when he saw me. I gave him an apologetic wave and turned to The Kid in front of me. He had a heavy many pocketed backpack slung over his shoulder; he let it drop down his arm and unzipped a front pocket and produced a small device.

"You flipped the last two numbers of your pin!" He shouted over the noise of the siren.

"I must have copied it down wrong!" I called back.

"Happens all the time Miss Plum but I'm going to have to scan some ID, it's procedure," he called back. I figured he might need to do this and had my driver's license ready. He plugged the thingie into his phone and then used it to scan my ID.

"I thought you were supposed to call?" I shouted.

"We did; both of your phones went straight to voicemail," he said while he waited for his machine to work. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and made a show of being surprised that it was off and turned it back on. He waved me towards the house, and I took him to the security panel.

He flipped open the plate that covered the number pad and pressed two buttons together and held them down, silencing the alarm.

"I hope you don't mind," I said, "I'm just going to text Ranger. If he finds out that the alarm went off, and he missed the call, he'll freak."

"I met him the day before yesterday when he moved in. Not a man I'd want to see freak out." The kid said.

"I'm sorry, but would you mind if I took a picture of your ID to send to him?"

"Sure." the kid unclipped his ID from his pocket and handed it to me. I snapped a picture and clicked send. The kid's name was Billy Parker, and he smiled as he accepted his ID back, "Dunno if I could live with someone as paranoid as your man, ma'am."

"You get used to it," I said, sounding disinterested. I pretended to text and waited for him to punch in his code, as he entered the numbers into the keypad, I texted them to Ranger.

Two seconds later I got a message back that was just a question mark. I replied that he'd have to wait until later and put the phone back into my pocket.

Billy reprogrammed my panel and verified my codes for me. I waited until I was showing him out before I got chatty.

"So do you like working here?"

"I do," he said, "The people are friendly, for the most part; the pay is great, and because the job is pretty quiet, Mr. Chase is perfectly okay with letting me study while I stare at the monitors all day."

"What are you taking?"

"I'm an Economics major part-time," he said.

"With so few of you on shift at a time, I'd think you wouldn't have time to study?"

"Nah, most calls are like this one; someone has put the pin in wrong or set off their smoke detector and not answered their phone after disabling the alarm, things like that. The Hotel is busier of course because the guests tend to be a bit rowdier and since nothing actually belongs to them, they aren't as careful with the property, but we don't have to handle that. It's pretty quiet here; sure things have been a little more exciting lately because of these break-ins, but they are just pranks really. I mean if they were more than that, Mr. Chase would have had us increase personnel, but nothing's changed."

"Break-Ins?" I asked.

"We've had a few break-ins lately, and I have a pretty good idea who's behind them," he said.

"Who do you think it is?" I asked.

"So far all of the victims are of the same group of friends, and a few of them have teenage boys, and I'm about 85% sure it's one or all of those boys," Billy said.

"Why do you believe it's them?"

"Sort of thing kids would do," he shrugged, "I think the victims know it too because they are just a little too angry over what's happening, but a little too willing to let us keep the police out of it. They really just want their security codes changed and for us to leave. If it weren't for Mr. Chase, they wouldn't have let us play CSI."

"I don't understand, what does he have to do with it?"

"Well he owns the property doesn't he? He's allowed to insist."

"Do you think they are trying to protect their kids?"

"Nope, their reactions are more like someone who is embarrassed," he said then he smiled again, "You have nothing to worry about here, though. Like I said, it's one group of friends. Just make sure you set your alarm when you leave and don't share your code with anyone."

"So I guess everybody here is a little paranoid right now then huh?"

"Not really, why?"

"Oh, I don't know if you've noticed, this place is cool, but it's not really friendly, you know? I want to add a bit of life to it and thought I'd start with the gardens. The problem is that I live in a boring apartment block in Trenton, so I don't know where to start; I thought I'd cruise around today in the hopes of finding inspiration."

He laughed, "Miss Plum, you just won me $100."

"What? How?"

"Mr. Chase and I had a bet; I told him there was no way you leave this place as is."

"Is this a sexist thing?"

"Nah, I just said that no woman with the stones to call Mr. Manoso, 'Batman' to his face would be content with something this clinical; you'd need something with a sense of humor."

I laughed, "How do you know I call him Batman?"

"Mr. Chase told me. He said you called while Mr. Manoso was in the office a while ago and Mr. Manoso put you on speaker so he could look something up for you on his phone. He sent you the information, and you said, 'Thanks, Batman,' and hung up. Mr. Chase said Mr. Manoso didn't even react meanwhile Mr. Chase and Mr. Manoso's man were both trying to keep a straight face."

"Any idea what the meeting was about?" I asked.

"I think it was a casual thing. Mr. Chase said Mr. Manoso was an army buddy from way back in the day. According to Mr. Chase, your man saved his life. They were taking heavy fire, and Mr. Chase had just been shot through the knee cap. One of their enemies tossed a grenade into their foxhole, and Mr. Manoso caught it and heaved it back. Mr. Chase said that he did it without breaking a sweat like he was playing catch or something. He saved the whole unit. They were pinned down; their CO had cracked and tried to eat his gun. Mr. Manoso subdued him and started issuing orders. Funny thing was he was the lowest ranking member of the unit and everybody forgot about it because he was the only one with his shit together."

"I have absolutely no problem believing all of that story," I said, "Can I ask you another question, even though you didn't answer my first one?"

"What's that?" He grinned.

"How pissed is the community that we've sort of jumped the line for the house?"

"They aren't," Billy said, "They'll be curious about you, sure. However, there is an unspoken rule on the board that if a veteran applies for a one of the long-term leases and provided he makes it past the financial checks, he doesn't just make the shortlist, he is the shortlist. And to answer your first question, it's not going to be a problem; if anyone comes out to question you, just tell them what you're doing, and you'll probably end up with the name of their exterior designer and a full tour of their property."

I walked Billy back to the squad car, where he reached inside and pulled a card out of the center console, "None of the street names show up on GPS, and it's easy to get lost. If you get turned around, give me a call, and we'll rescue you."

"Or you could just direct me out," I said.

"Gives me something to do besides stare at monitors all day. Most exciting thing that's happening to me today is that I get to reprogram the pin pads for two of the short-term rentals. So I say this with all possible respect, get lost ma'am."

I laughed and stuffed the card in my pocket. I waited until he was out of sight before I looked up the number for the airport. I called and told them that I was hoping to bring Ranger's daughter to watch the planes and wanted to know what the best time would be to come to the airport. They informed me that there was a schedule online that I could access with my Club number and gave me the web address.

A few minutes later I was cross referencing the passenger list with the list of PRs and the rest of the club members and had a pretty good idea who was going to be renting the houses and when they were going to be getting there. The first flight was getting in at 11:00 and they were going to Sheet Bend, which was located near the shopping district. Since shopping was a big part of the agenda today, that worked for me.

After discovering that there wasn't anything in the fridge for breakfast, I decided that my first stop would be the grocery store. I grabbed my keys, my membership card, set the alarm and hopped into my golf cart.

I did the grocery thing, spoke to Charles at the deli counter like Phylis suggested, worked out a meal plan for the week and went off to the village to shop.

On the map it didn't look like anything special; in real life, it was damned adorable. It was built to look like an old English fishing village, right down to a Tudor-style pub with a thatched roof. Every building was made to look like they were ancient, but were too perfectly decrepit and too clean to be authentic. I parked my cart as close to the first store as I could get and, trusting that my groceries would still be there when I got back, I went looking for breakfast.

I found a coffee shop, ordered my third cup of the day and two Boston Creams and people watched while I contemplated the wealth of information I was able to get out of Billy. Billy wasn't bad at his job so much as he wasn't trained well. I had no doubt that with the right instruction, he'd be excellent. He was reassuring, personable, knowledgeable, and Chase clearly liked him. I was going to stress all of this to Ranger when I explained how I got the pin information. I didn't want him to lose his job.

I liked his theory about the teenagers, except for one thing, the last break-in. Someone was watching the house, how else would they have known the stamp collection was coming home that night? The chances of some punk kid, being a pain in the ass, breaking into the house the same night you have a stamp collection worth a gazillion dollars locked in your desk safe, are pretty slim. Now, someone watching the house would know the stamp collection was there and furthermore, knew not only where it was, but that it was unattended and that the keys to unlock the unpickable lock were sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Ranger said that the break-ins were ballsy, and he wasn't kidding, the kitchen in question was like ours, in full view of the pool where the tenants were probably having sex.

I was contemplating that, and Roy's lie that none of his men knew what the relationship between Ranger and Chase was, when I made a completely unrelated, seemingly trivial and yet crucial realization. I was the only woman in the busy coffee shop wearing black. But it wasn't just that I was wearing black, I was the only one wearing dark colors, period. Wouldn't be a problem except that I had nothing bright or pastel in my closet and I was supposed to fit in.

So I finished my breakfast and decided to track down the source of the neon and pastel. Two stores in I found a Lily Pulitzer, which had nothing but brilliantly colored everything. I bought some outfits there, grateful that I wasn't actually paying for any of it. The store right next to Lily Pulitzer was a tourist shop not much bigger than the bonds office storage room and just as packed full of crap. I found a couple of little things for my nieces and was paying for them when I saw camera lenses behind the counter. More specifically, lens adaptors for iPhone Cameras.

I pointed to one, "Do those really work?" I asked the girl behind the counter; she was sixteen at most and perky.

"Like I would tell you that it was a piece of junk," She laughed, "Actually they are pretty good depending on what your needs are. If you just want something fun, this kit comes with five lenses that aren't terrible." She pointed to a box on the wall with a tripod, white lenses, and a white case, but she pulled down four different lenses instead "I'd recommend these if you want something good, they are about $100 a lens but worth it if you ask me."

I bought the telephoto and the wide angle lenses. While she was waiting for the card to process, she eyed my bags. "Shopping spree?"

"You could say that; I was starting to feel conspicuous," I said.

"I think you look hot myself, but you're right, there isn't a lot of black around here," she said, "What you really want is to go to Milessa's. She's this designer friend of my mom's, and her stuff is amazing, and because she only makes a limited number, you're not going to see the same dress on everyone. I like Lily's stuff, but you see the same dress everywhere you go, and Milessa is an absolute whiz at dressing you in just the perfect thing."

I thanked her for her tip and found the store in question. The woman running the shop was the Milessa. She was forty-something, with a chocolate brown pixie cut with hot pink highlights. She smiled when she saw me, "Hello, may I help you?"

"I decided my wardrobe was a bit too dark for Reef Knot; I was told you might be able to help me with that?"

Boy, could she ever. She looked at what I bought at Lily Pulitzer and began pulling pieces to mix and match with what I already had. Then she pulled out a slightly sheer, pale blue silk kaftan mini dress with strategically stitched butterflies in blues, whites, and purples. A baby blue maxi dress that she claimed was a coverup for the beach. What it was supposed to cover, I didn't know. It had side slits that went up to both hips, plunged low at the neck and had cutaways at the waist. The beadwork on what little waist there was, was phenomenal, and when I paid for it all, I just closed my eyes and swiped. I didn't want to know the total; Ranger was going to be emailed the receipt and if he was going to freak out about it, well he could do that, but he told me to fit in.

I rounded out the shopping by getting a new pair of gold sandals and a second set of flip flops and decided to reward myself with an ice cream or another coffee. I compromised and went with coffee ice cream. I was half way through my cone when Ranger called.

"Hey," I said.

"Having fun?" He asked.

"Am I in trouble?"

"I'm surprised you stuck to two pairs of shoes," he said, "The two items labeled as 'electronics' are they business or personal?"

I just dropped a fortune in clothing, and he doesn't bat an eye, but he questions $200 in electronics?

"I'm not questioning the purchase because you've stepped over the line, I'm curious because the accountants will want to know," Ranger said.

"I'm not sure yet, and I don't want to say. If they work it's a business expense; if they don't, I'm going to give them to grandma as a souvenir."

"You really aren't going to tell me," he sounded amused.

"Not yet, I want to see if I can do this without your help," I said, "It's not dangerous,"

"I'll be home in about an hour, does that give you enough time?" he asked. I checked my watch, yup.

"Yes, I'm hoping it won't take longer than fifteen minutes," I said.

"See you in a few," he said and was gone.

I had half an hour to get to Sheet bend, find the house and set up the telephoto lens. I sorted out the lens on my phone and tested to make sure it worked. When it didn't, I got a teenager to help me. With the camera working, I gathered up my shopping and crammed it all into the back of the golf cart. As I was doing that, I saw some women come out of a store carrying some cool looking throw pillows and decided that if all went as planned, I'd reward myself with some stuff for the house.

I was almost at Sheet Bend when I remembered the house wasn't going to be ours for very long and gave myself a reality check. If I were going to buy anything, it would have to look good in my apartment too.

With that depressing thought and remembering that I wasn't a bazillionaire like I was pretending to be, I turned onto Sheet Bend.  
I was just about to turn onto a little street called, The Lock, when Billy passed me in his squad car. He beeped his horn at me as he passed and I waved. I made a slow loop around the whole knot without going down The Lock, giving Billy time to set up.

Before I turned down the road, I plugged my headphones into my phone and shoved them in my ears. When I got to the house where Billy was setting up, I pulled up and pretended to answer a call on my headphones. While I was talking, I used my new lens to zoom in on the garage door keypad and took slow motion video of Billy entering the master code and then the client's new pin code. I hung out for a few seconds longer and then pretended to hang up.

It was way easier than I thought it would be. As an experiment, I drove from house to house in another knot, this one called, Clove Hitch, and started, unsubtly, snapping pictures of the keypads of each garage with my telephoto lens. Nobody stopped me, nobody questioned me, and in some places, if they had their front door open, I could take pictures of the interior keypad as well.

That done, I drove home and parked my cart in the garage. I was about to unload my purchases when the garage door opened, and Ranger's stealth Porsche pulled into his space. I waited for him to get out and he looked at the abundance of shopping. He grabbed the grocery bags for me, and I lugged in my clothes. Once we put the groceries away, Ranger leaned up against the island and folded his arms across his chest.

"So?"

"So I dunno yet, I need my laptop," I said. I carried my clothes to the bedroom and dumped them on the bed. I picked up my laptop and jogged back downstairs and went into the den, with Ranger in tow.

I plugged my phone into the computer and pulled up the video. I hit go, praying it would work, and there clear as day, was Billy entering the codes in slow motion. Ranger raised an eyebrow, slightly in question, so I filled him in on my morning.

"You know how you said, whoever is doing this needed to have fancy gadgets and money? For the price of a one hundred dollar lens and a phone, I got for free as part of a plan, I got both codes, in one morning. And still had time to shop for a whole new wardrobe."

"What's your next play?" Ranger asked.

"I have a plan, but I'm going to need you for it because I can't pick locks."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: A combination of the arrival of a brand new nephew and this week's Game of Thrones, have resulted in a lot of late nights, a super long chapter being completed, and another, regular sized one, on the cusp of being done. Thank you to everyone for your comments, I love them! All mistakes belong to me, but the characters belong to Janet.**

I passed Ranger and helped myself to another cup of coffee.

"I'd go easy on that," Ranger said, nodding to the oversized mug in my hand, "Most of the guys around the office cut Hector's coffee with decaf or it keeps them up for days."

"Wimps," I said, "It's perfect; yeah maybe it's a little bit strong, but I need it today,"

"Missed me?"

"Missed your gun," I said, which drew a cocked eyebrow and a smirk, "Perv. I'm on to you, there was no emergency at work last night, you bugged out the minute you heard party."

"I'm assuming the party last night has something to do with the phone call I got this morning about the wifi being down next door and a virus that was introduced to the neighbour's network?"

"A virus?"

"Turned all of the music on the computers to chamber music," Ranger said.

"You have some real competition when it comes to Hector; that is some seriously perfect revenge. Not to mention he makes a mean cup of coffee," I said and topped up my cup.

"And you probably have the same taste in men, too," Ranger said.

"Well, while you were getting your beauty sleep, Hector and I went through torture by techno," I said.

"Are you going to tell me your plan?" Ranger asked.

"See, I dunno. I sort of want to do this by myself without telling you the plan. Because if I tell you the plan, you're going to want to plan it more, and next thing I know, we're doing it your way, which is usually really good for me, but the way I see it is, if we do it that way, then we can't test my theory that a total amateur with a little ingenuity can do this, without fancy gadgets and stuff. So I sort of really just want you to come along so I can try things my way, with backup and someone who can pick a lock, because even though I did look it up on the internet a couple of weeks ago and tried it, I couldn't pick the lock to my apartment and since a two-year-old can do it I don't think I've mastered it, you know? Oh and I want you to come along to make sure I don't do anything stupid."

"I understand your motives; a simple 'no' would have sufficed. How many cups of that have you had?" he nodded towards the cup in my hand.

"Umm, four?" I said, "Plus the coffee before I went shopping that I had with breakfast and the coffee ice cream. Which I suppose was more than just coffee ice cream because there was chocolate covered Espresso beans in it and what are you doing?" Ranger took the coffee from me and dumped it down the sink. I couldn't have been more shocked if he'd shot me. The next thing he did was get a big water glass and fill it with water and a dissolving vitamin C tablet.

"Drink that, all of it," he said.

"You dumped my coffee,"

"Live with it," he said.

"Just because I'm a little chatty doesn't mean you get to be all bossy!" I squeaked.

Ranger stared at me impassively; my outrage did not concern him at all. I stubbornly refused to drink the fizzing orange drink, for about ten seconds because I suddenly realized I was really really thirsty. Like more thirsty than I've ever been in my life. I pounded it back, and he refilled the glass with water. That done he steered me to the bedroom and threw some running shorts and a sports bra at me and changed into his own running clothes. When I hadn't changed when he finished, he began undressing me in an entirely clinical, unfun manner and yanked the bra over my head. The shorts were next. Followed by a pair of ankle socks and when he went to tie my shoes, I snapped, "I'm not four; I can do it myself, but if you think I'm running, you've got another thing coming."

He stayed crouched down as I tried to tie my shoes and failed because my hands had started shaking. He took over when I started panicking and then steered me out the front door. He prodded me into a run while I freaked out. A mile in I didn't care about being shaky anymore and was just focusing on not dying. We were jogging at noon, in Florida, it wasn't exactly cool. Five miles later and we were back in the house, and I was lying on the cool marble floor grateful for air conditioning and cold stone against my skin. Ranger let me stay there for a few minutes before he dragged me back to my feet and made me eat a banana and drink some more water.

The banana did a lot to restore my equilibrium.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"I can't believe you made me do that," I said.

"You kept a nice pace once you stopped freaking out about having Bell's Palsy," Ranger said, "Which I don't think is what you think it is."

"I'm not going to be able to move later."

"Yes you will; come on," he said.

"I'm not exercising anymore," I said.

"You're going to have a shower, and then I'm going to give you a massage you probably won't remember," Ranger said.

"I don't think that's likely; I'm pretty sure that if you massage my legs it's going to lead to some memorable events," I said. Ranger didn't say anything.

I didn't remember the massage. I know it happened because I remember lying down on the bed, and thinking that it was pretty fucking hot when he poured oil on the back of my thighs. Then I was gone, totally lights out, sound asleep, thanks to the biggest caffeine crash of my life. When I woke up, it was around four o'clock, and it wasn't because I just naturally woke up. It was self-preservation because I was suffocating.

Ranger was lying mostly on top of me, using his body as a shield against some invisible threat, and he was twitching. It wasn't the first time I'd woken up because of a Ranger nightmare. They only happened when he was exhausted. Usually, after he'd been awake for more than thirty hours. If our post-coital nap was the only time he'd slept since I last saw him, that would do it. The odds on that were pretty good, considering there was a crisis with a client and he probably went straight to work once he got set up here.

Now in most cases, when someone has a nightmare, you wake them up. That's simple, right? Call their name and shake them. In Ranger's case, this was an extremely bad idea. He didn't sleep with a gun under his pillow, it was in the nightstand, but he didn't need a gun to kill you in a second, and he had years of training that gave him scary reflexes. The best thing to do was let him sleep through them, as awful as they could be to witness, because you didn't know what he was dreaming about and touching him or shouting his name, could just make things worse. That is, if you weren't sharing a bed with him. If you were, it could be just as dangerous as trying to shake him awake. You had to wake him up just enough to get him out of the dream but not enough that he'd startle.

This wasn't information I discovered on my own; this was all thanks to an awkward conversation with Lester and Bobby one of the many times I'd done contract work for Ranger. Ranger was working a lot of long hours, and they felt it prudent to warn me since I hadn't experienced a nightmare yet and it wasn't exactly a secret that we periodically slept together.

"Ranger," I whispered. Saying his name resulted in him tightening his grip on me. Since I was already touching him, I gently stroked his chest, "Whatever you're remembering is over; I'm safe. You saved me. You have to let me go," He grabbed my wrist, hard. It wasn't painful, but it had the potential to be. One thing was clear, I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

I blew out a sigh, now what? Thankfully this wasn't one of his more violent nightmares; mostly I was just trapped. I'd have just relaxed and waited it out, only now I had another problem. I had to pee, and I was getting blowback of my own breath off of Ranger's shoulder, and it wasn't pretty. "Ranger, let me go. I need to get up," I said. His hand tightened again, okay now it hurt, "Please, Ranger?"

He let me go and rolled over, but he wasn't awake. He grunted in pain; his breathing was accelerated, and he let out a grunt of pain. I hated that I couldn't do anything for him, I hated that I didn't know what he was dreaming about. I wanted him to wake up more, but I needed to be far away from him when I tried.

I got up and did what I needed to do, and I made brushing my teeth making as much noise as I could, trusting that his other instincts would wake him up enough for him to determine if I was a threat. When I came out, he was resting peacefully on his back, looking like he usually did when he slept. Since I didn't have to worry about him killing me if I woke hip up now, I decided to get back into bed using a detour over him, paying a toll of a kiss on my way over.

He let me be in control for all of a second and a half before I wasn't on top anymore and you'd have never known he'd been asleep seconds before. "Those are the reflexes I like you waking up with," I said when he finished thoroughly kissing me, I touched his cheek, "Are you okay?"

"I will be," he said, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, you just weren't excited about the idea of letting me leave," I said.

"I never am," he said and kissed me again.

"How much have you slept since you left Trenton?" I asked.

"Exactly how much you think I've slept," he said.

"Then keep your weapon holstered soldier, and go back to sleep," I said.

"I'll go to sleep faster if I don't," he said.

"No, you won't. You can switch off like a light, and you're not the quickie type." He chuckled and rolled off of me and onto his back. I rolled with him and stayed tucked against him. I was thinking of getting up so I could work on my plan for the evening a bit more, but decided that since I was comfortable where I was, and I had no real desire to get out of bed, I could think about my plan where I was.

What I needed was more intel, and I needed an excuse to go to the guard station. My phone vibrated beside the bed, and I crawled over Ranger to get it. He chuckled again and started gently stroking my lower back. "Stop it," I said and kissed his nose, "You're just going to have to practice a little restraint. I know you can."

"I only have so much self-control. You're naked, you're on top of me, and we're in bed. You're going to have to get off of me if you want me to stop attempting to persuade you."

I did as he suggested and settled on my back next to him, using his arm as a pillow.

"Spoilsport," he said, and then was asleep two seconds later. I opened my phone and clicked on my text messages.

I had several from Morelli; the last one was the only one visible without clicking on his name.

-I am not kidding, Cupcake.

I didn't want to know what he wasn't kidding about. So I just ignored it and opened the ones from my grandmother. She was texting to tell me that Mary Lou had called the house a dozen times, she tried calling my cell, but her number was blocked or something because the call wouldn't go through. I read the ones from Connie, demanding full disclosure because she knew there was more to the story, and then some from Lula that were mostly hurt and made me feel guilty. The rest were mostly congratulatory and from people I hardly spoke to. I burned through those, deleted the crap and got out of bed.

Ranger was completely out; he hadn't even twitched when I moved. So I went to the bathroom to fluff my hair and put more anti frizz spray gunk in it and then found something fresh to wear. I chose a pair of baby blue shorts with pink palm trees on them, an oversized, light weight, white t-shirt and stuffed my feet into flip flops. Presentable, I went down to the pool and called Mary Lou.

The phone picked up after half a ring, "What the hell Steph!"

"Hello," I said pleasantly, "What's new?"

"Seriously, I've been freaking out. Why is my number blocked?"

"My phone had a seizure the other day. I'm gonna get one of Ranger's techs to look at it to make sure nobody else is blocked," I said.

"When did this start, I can't believe you didn't tell me! You just told me you had the best sex of your life and that he brought you dinner in bed,"

"That's all it was, but I dunno, something changed, for both of us and he wanted to give us a try," I said.

"But marriage? What about Joe?" she asked. So I filled her in on everything except for the fact that it was fake. When I finished, she was quiet. "Steph, I like him, you know I do, but are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, "What's everybody saying?"

"Lula's pissed, Connie think's there's much more to this than you're saying and I've just been worried." She said.

"How is Morelli?" I asked.

"Oh he's pissed off, mostly at himself; he's totally convinced that you're going to come to your senses if you talk to him."

"Not going to happen," I said, "I've said it twice now, it's over, I'm not going back and I'm not telling him again. I'm ignoring him now, hoping he'll give up and leave me alone for a while."

"Oh, I've got a good story for you. Shirley was here (kids' were having a play date), so this is basically straight from Eddie. Morelli was working a lot of overtime on this case, big career maker with lots of time undercover collaborating with the Feds, that sort of thing. He just closed his end of it, last few days before the bust have been hell, and he's not been sleeping for all of it. So he tells Eddie he has big plans, he's gonna go home to sleep for a day, then he's gonna go visit you, see if you need keeping warm in this wacky weather we've got going on, then he's gonna come back and do his paperwork. He just says that and he gets the first call that you and Ranger happened, and I guess he just dropped everything. So he goes and has his little meltdown at you. Your mom chills him out, and he goes home to sleep for like two hours, comes in to do the paperwork, because he can't sleep, he's thinking too much. Course everybody already knows what's going on and keep coming to talk to him about it and then the call comes in that you've written off another car..."

"That was Lula. I was on foot," I said.

"Yeah, well. Morelli threw his chair through the break-room window. The Captain told him he was burnt out from the case, and unless he wanted to be officially reprimanded, he had to use up some of his sick leave, he's got a ton of it, and he's gotta speak to a departmental shrink. Eddie ended up driving Morelli home." Mary Lou said.

"Jeeze," I said, "I called him a lot over that week and he didn't even text me back."

"That's why he's blaming himself. He told Eddie that it was karma for saying that compared to being your boyfriend, the case was a cakewalk."

"What a... a..."

"Dick? Yeah. He says it was just a joke; you know how guys talk. Anyway he said to Eddie that he was getting your messages but couldn't respond; so he thinks you thought you must have been in an off phase and Ranger swooped in, like he always does. So Joe tells Eddie, he's been working with the Feds because they see him as an expert on organized crime in Trenton."

"He is," I said.

"Yeah, so Morelli, he's getting video of these guys doing a dirty deed of some kind, four principal players in the group, there are hours of video. He's been through it all; there's nothing incriminating in it, but he has to Give it to the Feds anyway because it's procedure. Next thing he knows, they are telling him he can't talk to you until the case is wrapped. Apparently he turned something up in a video, and it's connected to the Bonds Office and could implicate some major players in some major crime families, but they don't want Vinnie tipped off. Not because they suspect Vinnie of being anything but a perverted rodent, but because of Vinnie's connections. They are worried that Morelli might let something slip to you, and Vinnie'll get word. That's why he's been talking to you through Eddie."

"Well, that explains a few things, but it doesn't change anything. I should have missed him right? I should have been annoyed that he wasn't answering me. I wasn't."

"Hey, if you've got Morelli in your bed and he's half as good as he's reputed to be..."

"He exceeds his reputation by about ten miles," I said.

"And you're not missing him? The relationship is dead."

"Now if he could only understand that," I said, "Hey, this thing with Vinnie, does it have to do with Harry?" I was thinking that if it did, I might want to cut my losses and just work for Ranger full time. If Harry was arrested, the Bonds Office would be going down, and I was going to be out of a job.

"Dunno, but it seems likely," she said.

"Shirley didn't say?" I asked.

"That's the best part! Morelli has no idea what he turned up on the surveillance footage; apparently it has absolutely nothing to do with his case, and it was a complete fluke that he caught it at all!" Mary Lou said.

"I'm guessing Connie has this by now?" I said.

"Nuh uh. You're the only one I've told and the only reason Shirley told me was because Eddie figured we'd be in touch. He thinks you might want to start updating your resume, just in case it has to do with Harry. Though if you're marrying Ranger, he's loaded so you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"But I might want to make sure he's got a lawyer handy," I said, "We might need it."

There was a loud crash on Mary Lou's end of the phone and then what sounded like a cat howling followed by the sound of rushing water. Then screaming kids. "Oh shit," Mary Lou said and hung up.

There were times where I thought about having a baby, then I would talk to my sister or Mary Lou, and I was glad I only had a hamster.

I went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and just about poured myself a cup when I thought, maybe that was a bad idea. So I opened some cupboards to see if I could find one of the giant water glasses Ranger had given me earlier instead. Instead of the water glasses, I found a cupboard with a shelf dedicated to a colourful array of metal water bottles. I grabbed a funky iridescent purple one and crammed some ice into it before filling it up in the sink. That done, I decided that now was the time to gather the information I would need for tonight.

I scribbled a note for Ranger on a post-it and stuck it to his gun, changed out of my flip flops into a pair of gladiator sandals and hopped into my golf cart for a cruise to the guard house.

I hadn't been to the front gates of the resort, so I wasn't sure what to expect from the guard house. I wasn't expecting it to be some ramshackle building, and I was right. There was a pleasant looking gate house with peach stucco walls and a red clay tile roof. It was big enough to seat two guards, who were in charge of all incoming and outgoing visitors. The gates were about twenty feet high and metal, that slid to the side. The fence extended down the edge of the property on either side. Weirdly, likely because of some geological issue, access to the boardwalk from this end was not on the resort side of the fence. To get through, you had to exit through a smaller gate with a five button combination pin lock. From there you walked down a path to another security gate where there was a larger electronic keypad.

The vegetation beyond the security gate was thick and bordered a large densely forested area. The guard house itself was a larger version of the gate house. It had a peaked roof and looked like it was big enough for a couple of offices and maybe a small holding area. I parked my car in front of the doors to the building and hopped out, an excuse loosely inspired by Mary Lou as my reason to be there. I opened the front door, and a cool blast of AC hit me as I walked in.

Billy was sitting at the desk in front of a computer, another man, his partner, was staring at a bank of monitors. The office was clean; the walls were a freshly painted taupe, on the wall behind the desk were the weekly schedule, shift rotations, and a patrol log. And right beside all that were signs prohibiting cell phones, cameras, and video cameras within the front office.

Billy was in the process of typing up an end of shift report and smiled that fake polite smile you give when it's the end of your shift, and you haven't done much all day, and someone finally comes in, just as you're ready to go home.

"Miss Plum, this is my partner, Phil." He gestured to the man staring blankly at the monitors, not really paying attention to what he was watching. I so knew his pain.

"Was there something we could do for you?"

"Um yes, my mother and father were thinking of coming for a visit," I said.

"Would you like us to add them to your proscribed list of visitors or let them in?" He teased.

"I have a proscribed list?" I asked. That was news to me, though given Reef Knot Security's surface attention to detail, I wasn't exactly surprised.

"Mr. Manoso filled out the form when he got here," Billy said.

"May I see it?" I asked.

He got the list out of a filing cabinet and handed it to me. The list was divided into three categories. The first was for those who were to be waved in, whether we were in residence or not. There were four names on the list, Hector, Tank (though his real name was listed and I giggled when I read it) Hal and Cal. The second section was for people whom the gate called the house first, but could have in and out privileges for the rest of the day, or until we said otherwise, whichever came first. There were _a lot_ of Manosos on that list. It was a good thing we were eloping for our fake wedding, or I'd be having another panic attack. None of my family were on the list. That was just a good thing because they were insane and I didn't want them to leave, have me forget to tell the gate they didn't have in and out privileges anymore and have my grandmother burst in on us while we got it on in the pool. She'd probably take video and put it on Pornhub. I mean that would be my reason for not putting them on the list. Ranger's reason probably was because they weren't local and our possession of the house was temporary. I didn't really see the point of this list, if I was honest. Wouldn't this category apply to anyone who decided to visit? It felt redundant.

The final category were the proscribed people, the people that weren't to be admitted onto the grounds under any circumstance, save written consent by the person who put them on the list in the first place. I had an active stalker, he was on the list, so were two previous stalkers who were out on parole, a bunch of names I didn't recognize and then one I did, Joe Morelli. The dates and times, each person was added to the list were noted in a column to the right of the names; Joe's name hadn't been put on the list until yesterday after he called.

"Did you want to add anyone?" Billy asked.

"No," I said, "I was just wondering what the protocol was if we had someone come to stay?"

"Depends on how long they plan to stay," Billy said, "If it's just overnight, just check them in whenever. If they are staying for a while, say three days to a week, we'll issue them a temporary club card with a prepaid limit. If you are planning to have a big party with a lot of outsiders, we need a guest list and twenty-four hours notice so we can put someone on the gate. I'm surprised Roy didn't give this information to you in the welcome package yesterday."

"I didn't see a welcome package; he probably gave it to Ranger when I zoned out," I said.

"That happens a lot of people when they talk to Roy. I'll get you an extra one; hang on," Billy said.

While he was in the filing cabinet again, I watched the monitors. The cameras appeared to be fixed; there were four around the guard house, the rest were in the stores in the village, mostly pointed directly at the cash. The cameras cycled through four different loops on four different screens. Two of those screens suddenly morphed into split screen images of an Infinite SUV. One screen showed a close-up of the front license plate and slowly zoomed out to capture the whole front end of the car. The other half of the screen did the same for the rear. The other cameras focused on the drivers side and passenger side of the car. The passengers were asked to put their windows down, so the cameras could see through the tinted windows, and then the passenger side camera flicked to infrared and confirmed that there were three passengers and a small dog in the car, based on body heat.

"Okay, that's just cool," I said.

"It is," Phil said, "They switch to night vision after dark too. There's special tech in them so the cameras don't get washed out by headlights."

"What is protocol exactly?" I asked, "Say someone drops by for a visit,"

"Well, we ask them how many people are in the car; if they are old enough to have ID we ask for ID and log them into the computer. Then we call your house and let you know they are here, if you don't want them to come in, you tell us and we give them an excuse." Phil said.

"What kind of excuse?"

"The standard one is that your housekeeper answered the phone and said you went out for the day," Phil said.

"Any idea when your parents are coming to visit?" Billy asked.

"They said in a few weeks if my sister could make alternate babysitting arrangements," I said, "They won't stay long."

"Just let us know and I'll drive round the paperwork for the temporary club cards."

Billy handed me the welcome package, and I took it back out to my golf cart. I did a big loop around the parking lot looking at the property surrounding the guard house, once more, then I cruised over to the grocery store and picked up my ready made supper. We were going to have smoked salmon and veggies on a bed of rice. My job was spelled out for me in idiot proof instructions catered to my oven and stove models. The water for the rice was even given to me in a premeasured amount. I doubted that even I could screw it up.

I took it all home and once I was there, I began the process of putting together dinner. It seemed to work too. The rice was fluffy, the salmon wasn't dry, the veggies were perfect. I put it all on serving dishes and took it out to the table. I had just finished setting the table when Ranger appeared.

"I'm impressed," he said. He wasn't; he knew that my expertise was more toaster strudel than gourmet cuisine. Even still, I was pretty damned proud of myself.

"I have a guy," I said.

Ranger went into the kitchen and came out with a bottle of Pellegrino and a couple of glasses with ice and lemon in them. He poured while I served our food. We sat down, and I nearly asked him how his day was, and the question lodged in my throat as the normalcy of the situation registered.

Ranger and I ate dinner in restaurants to talk work. We ate late at night, standing in his kitchen, eating something Ella had prepared hours before and we'd reheated in the microwave after a stakeout. We ate Chinese on my sofa drinking beer, while trying to ignore that I didn't have eyebrows again. We didn't do this.

"Look at us, we're..."

"Domestic as fuck," Ranger finished. He picked up his plate and his glass of Pellegrino, and I followed suit. We carried it over to the pool and sat sideways on deck chairs with a side table each to act as dinner tables.

"Much better," I said, and he chuckled.

"That was just weird," he agreed.

"It's not that I didn't like it," I said.

"We aren't dinner table people," Ranger said. That was for damn sure. Dinner tables for me were stressful, with mom taking hits of medicinal booze, my father contemplating murdering my grandmother, my grandmother with whatever date she had over that night, and me waiting for something to catch fire. I had dinner table PTSD.

"I'm going to need some clues about tonight," Ranger said.

"What do you mean?"

"How advanced is this B&E?"

"I'm not entirely sure; I think it's just a regular deadbolt."

"Key card?"

"Nope."

"What are you thinking?"

"Well I think you're going to take me on a date; dinner, and a movie," I said.

Ranger gave his plate a pointed look, "If anyone asks," I clarified. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he was thinking something, "What?"

"I'm not Morelli," he said.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Do I look like the dinner and a movie type?"

Actually, he didn't. To be honest, I had absolutely no idea what Ranger would be like on a real date. And he had a point; Morelli was that type of date, or a hockey game, or really anything where you are a spectator and there was food involved. I had no problem with that sort of date, and they could be a lot of fun, but that wasn't the sort of thing Ranger would do. Maybe he'd go to a baseball game, but he wasn't a spectator.

"You want a reason to be seen leaving the gates because you want to establish an alibi," He said, and I nodded, "And a date is your idea."

"It's how you get me to come along every time," I said.

"Why don't you let me handle the date aspect of it," he said, "It will not interfere with your plan,"

"It's a pretend date, Ranger," I said.

"It doesn't have to be," he said. I opened my mouth to comment and closed it again. Well shit, now I was nervous for two reasons, I was going to be breaking into the guard house, and I was going on a date. With Ranger.

"Focus," Ranger said.

"Well, now I have to worry about what to wear," I said.

"You've got time; I'm assuming you want to wait until after 2100?"

"Yes,"

The slight lift of the eyebrow was telling me to get on with it.

"So I thought we'd find some place to ditch the car, and come back on foot through the bush. I know where the cameras are pointed and they are in a fixed position. Your jobs are going to be picking locks, standing lookout and preventing me from doing something stupid."

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Well, look pretty," I said, "I want the benefit of your experience, but I really want to do this as much by myself as possible,"

"It's your show; I won't step in unless I feel I have to," he said.

We finished dinner and loaded the dishwasher. When that was finished, Ranger and I went over everything I'd found so far, and he took notes to put into the official audit report. "What's Hector finding with their network security?"

"It's outdated," Ranger said.

"That's what he said?"

"The language was more colorful, but that was the gist," Ranger said.

"I need to learn Spanish; I have a feeling I'd enjoy Hector's colorful language," I said.

"Ask Hector," he said, "He's a pretty good teacher."

"You won't?" I asked, "I happen to know you're an excellent teacher."

"I have a very good reason why," Ranger said.

"What reason is that?" I asked. He just half smiled in response.

"I have to go out for a few minutes, I won't be long," he said. He wasn't gone long, probably about twenty minutes at the absolute most. We watched CNN for a while, to kill time and at 8:00 he went into the bedroom and changed into his commando look.

"Umm that's not date like," I said.

"It is if our date involves a shooting range," Ranger said.

"Not really romantic," I said.

"Babe," he said.

"Well...wait that's the fake date isn't it?" I said, "You want me to have a reason to wear something more geared towards the break-in/stakeout."

"Six-inch heels aren't exactly practical or covert," he said.

"I thought you liked my shoes," I said.

"Did I say I didn't like them?" He asked.

I went to make sure I had everything I needed and changed into my own commando gear. At 9:15 we got into the 918 and pulled out of the driveway. It turns out we didn't need to have an excuse for our state of dress because nobody saw us leave except the cameras at the gate, but they couldn't tell what we were wearing beyond black t-shirts, so we were okay.

Ranger had driven a mile down the road before it forked and he hung a left. A mile down that road and he pulled into the parking garage of a hotel and pulled into a parking space.

"How long do you expect this to take?" Ranger asked.

"I dunno, three hours, not including walking," I said. Ranger pulled out his phone and dialed, "I'm going to need a reservation for midnight." he said, waited a beat and then hung up.

"That was all very impressive, but we don't need an alibi. If we get caught, it's a good thing," I said.

"The restaurant here just serves dessert after ten," Ranger said, "If you get caught you're going to need comfort food; if you don't get caught you're going to want to celebrate."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"We've met."

"Not about the food," I said and rolled my eyes, "I mean about the restaurant."

"I know a guy," he said and reached across me to pull out a parking pass that he tossed onto the dash. Also in the glove box was his big mag light. He grabbed that too.

We walked the mile back along the road, past a forest on our left, and then turned down Reef Knot Drive, which would lead us to the gates and Reef Knot Road. I knew just how far the cameras could see but just in case, I decided to cross the ditch about 100 feet from that point. I was about to do it when Ranger caught my hand and pulled me back. He drew a gun that wasn't his usual 9mm. It was a fucking enormous revolver with a long funky barrel and looked like it took ammo that would make an atom bomb go, "Dude relax, the firepower is a bit much."

"What?" I asked.

Ranger didn't have to overcompensate for anything, and he didn't carry a big gun just for the sake of carrying a big gun; weapon size depended on the job at hand. Since the worst that could happen was that we could get detained for a couple of hours while Chase informed security and maybe the police that this was a sanctioned security audit, the gun was excessive.

"We're in Florida; that was a mangrove forest back there," Ranger said.

"What do pretty trees have to do with packing a fucking bazooka?"

He shone his Maglight down the ditch in either direction, and he stopped when it glinted off of something, about ten yards back the way we came. He held the light steady, and I realized the glint was coming from a pair of eyes that were glowing back at us.

"Is that an alligator?" I asked.

"Crocodile," Ranger said, "It's just a small one; probably about six feet. Stay out of the water and we'll be fine crossing here."

"Yeah, thanks. Good tip," I said, "That definitely qualifies as preventing me from doing something stupid. And for the record, you and I have very different definitions of what constitutes a 'small' crocodile."

He crossed the ditch first and then helped me so I didn't become lizard food. The whole time I was very aware of the eyes that were staring at us and I thought were maybe getting closer.

I led the way back towards the guard house, through the foliage (by led, I mean I stayed glued to Ranger and his rocket launcher and pointed him in the right direction), until we came upon the spot I picked out earlier for the purposes of our stake out.

I knew from the schedule I'd seen posted that at 9:45 they were due to patrol the boardwalk. When they left to patrol, I was going to time them to see how long they took, so we'd know approximately how long we had for our heist. When they got back, I was hoping that I could catch them entering the combination the same way I'd gotten the garage door codes. IF that didn't work, that's why I had Ranger; I knew, he could work his magic and get around that kind of lock. I'd get him to pick the locks to the guard house, and since we had the master alarm codes, I'd use those to disable their security.

I was about to get down in the brush when Ranger tapped my shoulder and pointed to a different vantage point. I followed him, and we got settled. "What was wrong with my spot?" I whispered.

"There is no wind tonight; the bugs will be out, and the mosquitoes will be drawn to the carbon dioxide from our breath." He picked a blade of grass and handed it to me, "This is Citronella, it's a natural insect repellent, and it's planted all over the resort, likely for that reason. Your spot was fine otherwise, and we can go back if you think this counts as expert level stakeout knowledge."

I pondered that and decided that it did qualify as professional league experience, but I reasoned that even if you were getting chewed alive because you didn't have an encyclopedic knowledge of insect repellent vegetation, you would be able to stop swatting long enough to avoid detection while security went down to the boardwalk. I didn't need to be bug bait to prove a point.

At 9:46 the door to the gate opened and the two guards, men I hadn't met yet, were joking with each other as they armed their security panel, let the door swing shut behind them and walk down to the gates. What I hadn't seen during my scouting trip was that they had a narrow golf cart style buggy for cruising down the boardwalk. They both got in and the cart drove off.

They returned at 10:20 and Ranger cocked an eyebrow. They were still joking as they punched in the combination, which was done quickly so thank god for slow-mo on the iPhone, which captured it all.

Once they were back inside, I looked at Ranger, "What now?"

"Later," he said. At 10:45 they came back out again and Ranger shook his head almost imperceptibly. We waited five minutes and then we went to the gate where I punched in the combination and the door unlocked. Ranger jogged up the steps and produced his picks. Less than ten seconds later we were in the guard house, and I was entering the master code to disable the alarm code. Ranger looked up over the door to a security camera and cocked an eyebrow in question; I pointed to the monitors, and sure enough, the room appeared on one of the screens within a few seconds. He actually sighed.

"Now I have to test something," he said.

"Go ahead," I said. He pulled a roll of black electrical tape from one of his pockets and created a patch, which he then stuck to the camera lens.

"Go do your thing," he said. I tried Roy's office door, and it was locked.

"I need you for this bit," I said. Ranger came over to me and handed me his pick set, "I can't do this."

"Yes you can; you just don't know how yet. This is a good lock to learn on, and you want to prove an amateur can do this," Ranger said. He pulled a tool out of the kit that looked like a mini crow bar, "This is a tension wrench, you're going to put it in the bottom of the lock and apply light pressure." I crouched down to the lock and did as he said.

Next, he handed me a pick that looked like it had little-peaked waves at the end, "This is a rake, you're going to put it in the lock, you should feel the pins move as you do."

I did, and he was right I could, there were five of them. "Now you're going to wiggle the rake, back and forth in the lock. The idea is to get the top pins to align above the breech, the tension will hold them in place, if you push them too high, the bottom pins will move up above the breech, and the lock will remain engaged and you'll have to start over."

I nodded and tried, after about thirty seconds I became frustrated and he crouched down behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and put his hands over mine. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, and I was suddenly finding it hard to focus.

"You need to relax," he said, "Too much tension is as bad as not enough."

He made me relax the pressure on the tension wrench, and I felt the pins drop back to square one. With his right hand, he guided my hand, moving the rake in and out of the lock at various angles, the movement smooth and rhythmic. I felt a hit of adrenaline as the lock gave way under my hands, but I hardly noticed it because all of my other body chemistry was acutely aware of Ranger. I had sudden flashbacks of hiding in Joyce Barnhardt's closet and how the proximity had led to a very satisfying but unprofessional act and wondered if we had time for a similar act now.

"That," He said behind me, his breath hitting me just behind the ear, sending my already raging hormones into overdrive, "Is why I'm not an ideal teacher for you anymore." He snagged my earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently. I just about orgasmed. Fuck this cat burglary thing was hot. He hauled me to my feet, kissed me with very little control and then shoved me away.

"Right, we're on a clock," I said. Which was all very well and good but thanks to my acute awareness of my doodah, I was having difficulty remembering what I wanted to do next.

"If you do what you need to do in five minutes, we'll have time to desecrate Roy's desk," Ranger said. That sharpened my focus up real quick. Talk about a security breach. We were both probably sick in the head for thinking that was an excellent idea. It gave me new determination, and I remembered my plan.

I figured that since Roy was old and complacent, the chances of him remembering his password easily were pretty slim. So I started rooting around his office. Sure enough, stuck to the underside of his keyboard was a piece of masking tape with an alphanumeric password written on it. There were several layers of tape, and I was betting we could find every password for the last year if we wanted to. I turned on his computer, his login was already filled in for me, typed in his password and presto, I had access to the system. A keyword search took me to a spreadsheet with all of the residential access codes on it, and I clicked print. A laser printer in the corner of Roy's office came to life and started spitting out pages.

Ranger came over to the desk and took control of the keyboard and was able to access the central server, with no difficulty. No password required. He entered the date and 2245 into the search parameters. There were seven entries for approximately that time, and based on the addresses listed, none of them were for the guard hut. A little searching later and we found the system that tracked the use of the master codes and that's where we found both the activation as the guards left the building and then our re-entry minutes later. It seemed the database automatically generated a reason for the activation if the keypad was used at the guard house.

Ranger scrolled back six months until he came to a notation that the annual change of the master codes had taken place. He printed everything from that date to present. Then he picked the lock on Roy's desk and after a quick search we found a box of manilla envelopes. We each took one and put our printouts into them. While he locked the desk back up and wiped away our fingerprints, I shut down all of the programs and logged off of Roy's computer. Unfortunately, it had taken longer than five minutes, but the mood was gone anyway. Ranger was radiating anger, which was sexy in a scary way, but I had never been a big fan of angry sex.

Not that I could blame him for being pissed. Chase spent a fortune on security for this place and on the surface it looked good, the reality was that it was as easy to crack as the crust of a creme brule.

With everything shut down, we took our documents, took the tape off of the camera lens, re-armed security and left. Before he closed the door, Ranger pressed the button that stopped the door from automatically locking behind us. Instead of just leaving we went back to wait until the guards came back. They were engaged in a heated conversation about baseball, and neither of them noticed that the door they were shoving their key into, was already unlocked.

Ranger made a call to Hector, planted a small camera aimed at the door, and waited until Hector confirmed it was active and positioned correctly. "I want to see how long it takes them to notice," he said.  
Once that was done, we retraced our steps back to where we crossed over the ditch the first time, and I swore. There wasn't one Croc, there were two, and they were bigger than six feet, and they were lying across the road.

"What now Steve Irwin?" I asked. Ranger chuckled.

"Now we walk past them on this side of the ditch and cross up there," he said, "If we don't piss them off they won't come after us."

"What if they are hungry?" I asked.

"They are pretty small, we're too big for them to think of as dinner, out of the water." he said.

"Those aren't small," I said.

"Yes they are, the big one is back there." He shone the light back down the ditch towards reef knot, and I practically climbed Ranger's back. The light hit the back of the animal, who was stretched out in the mud along the bottom of the ditch, he had to be twenty-five feet long.

"That's a fucking dinosaur!"

"He is pretty huge; they don't normally get that big." He reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out.

"What are you doing?!" I hissed at him.

"Calling animal control; they get concerned when a croc that big is this close to a residential area. They will come to relocate him." What pissed me off about this was that Ranger seemed supremely unconcerned; as if there weren't a monster fifteen feet away from us. In the meantime, any composure I had was completely gone, and I was hanging off of him in an involuntary piggy back. He wasn't supporting me in any way either; I was just stuck to him like velcro. I stayed like that while he casually called animal control using a fake name and put his phone back in his pocket.

"Would you feel better if you were holding the gun?" he asked.

"No!" One that would involve potentially using a gun that would likely break my arm if I tried to fire it, and two, that would mean I had to get down.

Ranger carried me like that passed the crocs on the road, and once we were clear, I climbed down. We both pretended that I still had some dignity left and that the last ten minutes hadn't just happened.

"So how did I do?" I asked brightly.

"I'm impressed with your thigh strength," Ranger said. Okay, maybe he wasn't completely ignoring the past ten minutes.

"I mean before that," I said and rolled my eyes.

"It was well thought out and well executed. I'm proud of you, Babe," he said and slung his arm around my shoulders. If anyone drove by now, they'd probably think we were going to rob something. Given the sudden increase in crocodiles in the road, Ranger had decided to keep his gun out, which was fine by me, but still, given our state of dress, if a cop saw us, he'd definitely be curious.

It didn't take us long to get back to the hotel, and we entered it through the front lobby. It was an upscale building with a Moroccan feel to it. I wasn't particularly surprised when we were stopped by the concierge.

"Thank you," Ranger said and handed the man the large gun.

"No problem Ric," he said and handed Ranger a room key, "How much are you going to give me to keep my mouth shut about the rock?" He nodded to my hand.

The Concierge was probably not much older than we were, had Ranger's complexion, but was smaller, not nearly as broad in the shoulders and not as tall. His features were softer too, but there was definitely a family resemblance.

Ranger sighed and handed him a fifty, "That'll buy you twenty-four hours Primo," The concierge said.

"Club M-"

"That's enough! How do you even know about that... you know what? Doesn't matter... keep your money," The concierge handed him back the fifty, "Introductions please."

"Stephanie Plum, meet Riel Manoso," Ranger said.

"Ah, of course! I should have known; Tia Alita described you perfectly," Riel said. I looked at Ranger.

"My mother," he said.

"Right, I didn't get her name," I said. I met her when Ranger was in the hospital after Scrog. To me, she was Mrs. Manoso, and I was so preoccupied that if you asked me to, I wouldn't be able to pick her out of a lineup. Ranger gave my hand a squeeze.

"Your reservation is set, bar closes at 2:00, Champagne Bar is open until 4am. I'm on duty all night, so if you need anything, provided we're not talking condoms, I'm your man."

Ranger rolled his eyes, hard. He was doing New Jersey proud with that one.

"Come on, Babe," he said, and with a little wave made by me to Riel, we made for the elevator. Ranger hit a button for the 6th floor and took me down the hall to a king room. It wasn't a big suite, but the room was nice, done in soft creams and greens. It was very Florida. On the bed were two garment bags, one with my new gold leg breaker high heel sandals and make up bag on top.

"Get ready," Ranger said.

"How did you get this stuff here? When you left earlier, all of this stuff was in the closet!"

"Hector," Ranger said.

I grabbed the garment bag, my shoes and makeup and went to the bathroom. Given that we'd just spent time hanging out in a bunch of undergrowth I'm surprised my hair didn't look worse. A few minutes of fluffing, a few swipes of mascara and some lipgloss later, I figured the makeup was good enough, anything more would probably just melt off anyway, and I stripped out of my clothes to see what was in the garment bag. In it was the black dress I wore when I got here. In the bottom of the bag was a small parcel wrapped in pink tissue paper with a post-it stuck to it. I picked up the parcel.

-This is a thank you present. Boss is more forgiving with you here.  
Love Hector.

I unwrapped the tissue paper, yelped and dropped the contents into the sink. "Holy crap!"

Ranger didn't respond, probably because the sound of me freaking out in the bathroom wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. I peeked into the tissue again and pulled out a card with the picture of a lingerie model wearing what could generously be described as a bra and panties. On the back of the card was a diagram showing me how the hell the damn bra was supposed to go on.

Having never owned underwear that required instructions I was a bit intimidated. The thong was easy; there was a small strip of fabric to cover the critical bits, and the rest of it was just a couple of strings. Pretty standard really, except that the fabric was completely sheer and black. The bra took about five minutes and some cursing to get on. It consisted of the same sheer black lace that made up the thong, which went in a thin band that barely covered my nipples and offered very little by way of support. The rest were a series of silk straps that crisscrossed over my shoulders and down my back and under my ribcage. The straps perfectly outlined the shape of my breasts and the pattern they made on my back, once I sorted it all out, was actually really flattering. The whole getup was surprisingly comfortable, but even though it covered much of my torso, I still felt like I was pretty naked.

The low neckline of the dress, surprisingly wasn't going to be a problem. Once I put the dress on, you could only see the band that went across my chest and it looked like it was part of the garment. I added the shoes, fluffed my hair, blotted the sweat from my face and went out to the bedroom.

The hotel room had a balcony, and that's where I found Ranger. He'd changed into a lightweight, perfectly tailored black suit and he was on the phone. He turned when I joined him outside and stared at me so intensely I had serious doubts we were going to make it to our reservation. He didn't say anything as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the conversation, his hand did however lightly explore the neckline of my dress without actually dipping past the fabric

"Handle it." He said and disconnected. He dropped his phone into his pocket and drew me close. "I felt I didn't show this dress nearly as much appreciation as it deserved."

"I feel naked in it," I said.

"That part comes later," he said, his voice was deep, and he was smiling softly, "Right now, I owe you a date."

He took my hand and led me off of the balcony and back to the elevator, we were only going up one floor, but he was saving me the stairs in deference to my shoes. We exited into an elegant open-air restaurant. Ranger gave his name to the hostess who gave him a serious once over, Not seeming to notice I was there. She flashed him a winning smile and led us back to a table.

He declined the dessert menu but accepted a smaller gold leather menu. I took the dessert menu and eagerly cracked it open. It seemed, according to the menu, that if you loved chocolate, you wanted to eat at this restaurant. The entire menu was chocolate.

I was completely overwhelmed; there were fifty different chocolate desserts to try. "I don't know where to start..."

"Would you like a recommendation?" Ranger asked.

"No, offence Batman but your taste-buds are broken," I said.

"Babe, my taste buds aren't broken," he said, "I have a refined pallet. The difference between you and I is that I've been in more than one situation where being picky wasn't an option, so I can disregard taste if the occasion requires it."

"What is your favourite thing to eat?" I asked. He smirked and cocked an eyebrow and my body temperature went up, "Food, what's your favourite food?"

"My mother makes a mean strawberry rhubarb pie," he said. Well that stumped me, I thought he'd pick something a bit more exotic; he's been everywhere there is to be and eaten practically everything. Then again my mother's pineapple upside-down cake was my favourite food so who  
was I to judge.

"Okay, surprise me then, Ric, pick something good," Ranger took the menu without looking at it and signalled our waitress. He turned to a page in the menu, and pointed to something.

"She wants to be surprised," he said.

"My favourite," She wasn't looking at the menu, and I rolled my eyes.

"We'll need the Veuve Rose, as well," he said.

"One glass or two?" she asked. Ranger's look changed from polite disinterest to cool and a bit scary, and she coughed, "Two glasses and two forks. Right away Sir."

"Does that happen to you every time you go on a date or is it just when you go out with me?" I asked.

"My last dates have all been with you," he said.

"Those weren't real dates; they were work. I'm talking about real, get to know you dates," I said, "Where you go out for the pleasure of someone's company, not with a job in mind,"

"The last real date I went on was about a year before I met you," he said.

"And, did the waitress hit on you?" He nodded.

"And I used the number she slipped me with the bill," he said.

"How soon after the date?"

"I used it during the date," he said.

"Oh boy, the number of ways I could take that are overwhelming, all of them make you look very baaad." I said laughing.

"I never said I was good," he joked.

"Not in that department anyway," I said. Then I thought about it, no he was right, he wasn't good, "I take that back, you aren't 'good' in any department; 'phenomenal', 'amazing', 'fucking awesome,' yes, but 'good' is an undersell,"

He chuckled.

"The bad part about that is you know it too, you arrogant bastard," I said, grinning, "This is where you shower me with compliments, Batman."

"Not my style, Babe."

"One adjective," I said, holding a finger up, "Just one."

He shook his head and considered me for a moment, "Astounding," he said.

I laughed, yup that did it. The number of times I've left people shaking their heads and speechless were too many to count.

"So tell me, is it a coincidence that your cousin works here?" I asked.

"Yes and no," I said, "Chase comes to this restaurant a lot and Riel told him that I was looking for real estate in the Keys. Chase contacted me, and I told him the search wasn't that serious, but if something came available, I'd be interested in seeing it."

"Wait you were actually looking to buy here?" I asked.

"I already have a place in Florida," he said, "You wanted to know where the Batcave was? It's here,"

"But you want to sell it?" I asked.

"I do, if the right property comes up," he said.

"And this house?" I asked.

"I'm on the fence," he said, "Not with the security as it is. When we take over the contract, I'd be more interested. Chase would like me to take it so it doesn't have to get out that he hired auditors, he'd give it to me for a good price."

"He'd lease it to you, you mean," I said.

"No, I told him the only way I'd take property is if I own it," he said, "I like the house but there are other factors to consider."

"Such as?" I asked.

"I don't like the proximity to the neighbours, but it is something I can learn to live with. Julie will be pissed because the second bedroom is small, and because the walls are glass she won't be able to paint her room."

"What colour is her bedroom in the Batcave?" I asked.

"Hot pink and neon green," he said. I was enjoying this getting to know you session when a pair of servers came over, one bearing a high hat, with a frosty bottle of champagne and two flutes, the other server, not our waitress, placed a plate in front of me and I had to check for drool.

It was a layered chocolate cake, instead of icing between layers there was melted caramel with pecans. I was aware of a cork popping and the pink champagne being poured, but I was staring at the cake, really glad that my dress was stretchy.

Ranger picked up a fork and leaned across the table to cut into the cake, and turned the plate so I could watch the molten chocolate ooze out of the layers and mingle with the pecans and caramel; it was so decadent it was erotic. He held the fork up for me to take a bite, and that's when I'm pretty sure I nearly died.

Ranger chuckled, and I opened my eyes. "There's only one other thing that makes you moan like that, and it's not something considered acceptable in public."

"This is incredible," I said.

"I know; I've had it before."

"But not tonight?" I said.

"I like to watch."

I stifled a laugh because my mouth was full.

The cake was small but any bigger, and I wouldn't have been able to eat it. It was rich, and it was sweet, and each bite was as good as the first. It was even better washed down with good champagne.

"This is a really good date, Ranger," I said.

"You're just saying that because you have afterglow from publically making love to a piece of cake." He said. He pushed his chair back, stood up and walked around to my side of the table. He pulled my chair out for me, and I looked at our barely touched bottle of very expensive champagne.

"We'll be back," He said. Curious I followed him to the opposite side of the restaurant where I discovered that what I thought was the edge of the balcony, actually wrapped around the roof of the building to a bar and a dance floor.

The song we danced to was irrelivant. I've danced with him once before, but we were more focused on the people we were supposed to be guarding. I'd been aware of his hands on my body, and he hadn't been immune to me, but like I said, there wasn't much we could do about it. That night, however, dancing on top of that hotel, in his arms, I was only focused on him and how he was holding me close like he didn't want to let me go. Like the night we made love after the Dip incident, this was different; this was a turning point that neither of us was expecting, and I was exhilarated and happy. That smile that hadn't been far away after that night was back, and I forgot that while we were taking a night off, we were her for work, and for a little while at least, he was mine.

Ranger was looking at me with that look I couldn't read and because I was feeling brave and he was as talkative as Ranger ever gets, I asked him.

"What are you thinking when you look at me that way?"

He smiled and pulled me closer in response. I was grateful for the height of my heels because it put my nose right at the hollow of his throat, and I was able to become intoxicated by the heady scent that was his alone.

Then the world stopped spinning because he told me what he was thinking.

"I love you," he said.

 _ **AN: Totally have no idea if Ranger's mom's name is in the books; I've looked in a few and couldn't find it. If it is in canon and anyone knows, let me know and I will change it!  
**_


	9. Chapter 9

**_AN: So to start, let's get the important stuff out of the way. Thank you so very much, your comments never fail to make me smile! And of course all usual disclaimers apply. Now to the other stuff...The good news is, here is chapter nine and chapter ten is just about done, so I might even be able to get it to you tomorrow. The bad news is, the Apple Gods have decided that my spacebar only wants to work half the time and my laptop has to get it's topcase replaced. I'm told that will take about a week. So unless I can steal my husband's laptop, I might not be able to post next week. That being said... Hey Look! Light smut to start the chapter!_**

I know we went back to the table, we must have, to retrieve the bottle of champagne and pay the bill, but it was a detail of the night that my mind deleted. I remember his hand at the small of my back as he held me pressed to him our lips fused together as he deftly unlocked the hotel room door behind my back. I remember the flash of his almost black eyes, as my dress hit the floor and he got his first glimpse of Hector's gift.

Where most men would have simply removed my almost non-existent thong and left the rest for me to deal with later, Ranger treated it like an erotic brain teaser. As he untangled another strap from my body he stroked and kissed the flesh underneath; when he finally unclasped the bra in the back I wanted him so badly, I couldn't even begin to think straight.

It seemed the more desperate I became, the more patient he became. This was far from the first time we'd made love. He knew where and how to touch me to make me putty in his hands, and he was avoiding those areas, determined either to make my entire body one giant erogenous zone or to find new ways to make me come out of my skin with need. Every nerve ending was connected to the one spot he would not touch, and I'd started begging him nearly incoherently to just give me some relief. He shut me up by kissing me. His systematic torment of my body had me conditioned to focus where he wanted me to and at that moment he wanted what little attention I had the capacity to give, on the way his lips were barely touching mine, the way our breath mingled, the way his teeth gently tugged my lower lip.

Then his hand was stroking between my thighs and I came up off of the mattress and my nails were digging into his shoulders, and I was startled to find that I was touching bare skin. Some time during his delicious torture he'd taken his clothes off and I'd been oblivious. I might have laughed at his use of misdirection, considering that before I started calling him Batman, Connie called him The Wizard, but I couldn't because he'd increased the pressure of the slow, smooth, rhythmic stroke. And I could feel the delicious tension building in my body that came right before the flood of release, but it wasn't coming, or rather I wasn't he was drawing it out as long as possible, and just as I thought I was there, he stopped and I cried out in frustration.

"It'll be alright Babe, I just want a different angle." He pulled me so that I was sitting on his lap, my back pressed to him as he guided his way into me, and then the hand was back, simultaneously guiding my movement in a slow rock and teased me until I detonated around him. His free arm clamped around me so I couldn't collapse and he could wring ever last ounce of ecstasy from me and I went limp against him.

My breath was coming in sobs and my heart was pounding so hard that I was light headed. Then Ranger was lowering me back onto the mattress and I came to enough to realize, he wasn't finished yet. Not anywhere close.

"Pace yourself, Babe."

When he finally finished with me the sun was coming up, and no matter how much I wanted to keep going, I couldn't keep my eyes opened. I was cocooned in his arms and just about to drift off when I said, "I don't know whether to be thrilled, scared, or pissed."

"Why's that?" he asked, close to sleep himself.

"You've been holding out on me." The last thing I remembered was him gathering me closer as he chuckled softly into the back of my neck.

I woke up disoriented because I was in our bedroom back at the house. Ranger's side of the bed had been slept on, but he wasn't there. For a minute, I was worried it had been a dream. Then I went to move and discovered muscles I wasn't sure I knew I had before. I rolled over and saw a plate of still cold chocolate covered strawberries on the night stand and a card that simply read, 'It wasn't a dream.'

I was exhausted yet invigorated as my feet hit the floor and I went to shower. I dressed in the blue kaftan mini dress and went downstairs with my strawberries to locate Ranger. He was in his office, on his computer, a half-eaten bagel on the plate beside him. According to the clock on the computer, it was 10:49. His hair was wet from the shower, and he was dressed for the office.

"How long have you been up?" I asked as I took a bite of one of the berries.

"Not long," he said and pushed his chair back. I walked to his side of the desk and perched with my ass on the edge. His hands automatically went to my thighs.

"Are you going to the office today?" I asked.

"Chase wants a status update, so I'm typing up a report detailing our activities last night," He said.

I grinned, "That'll make an interesting read."

"He'll like the part where you freaked out about the crocodiles," he said.

I slapped his left hand away, halting it's journey under the hem of my dress. "You might want to edit some bits out," I said.

"What are your plans for this morning?" he asked.

"I'm going to the grocery store to pick up dinner for tonight and more beer, and then after that, I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe finally go through those crime scene reports and actually start investigating," I said, "Why didn't we stay at the hotel last night?"

"You mean this morning?"

"Yes,"

"Because Chase called at 0600 asking for an update," Ranger said, "And I didn't feel like typing the report on my phone."

"It's Sunday, why the hell would he call so early on a Sunday?"

"He's in London, and he doesn't care about weekends or time zones," Ranger said.

"I thought you said you haven't been awake long,"

"I haven't. I drove us home and went to bed," he said, "I told Chase that I've slept 6 hours in the last 48, and he'd get the report once I'd woken up."

I looked at his computer screen and saw that he'd only written two sentences. "I'll get out of your hair," I said.

I hopped off of the desk and out stepped out outside, "Babe," I turned, "Nice dress."

It was another nice day, it was 80 degrees, there was a gentle breeze, the sun was shining, and I still had serious afterglow going on. For the first time in my life, I was one of those annoying morning people. That is until my phone buzzed and I saw that I had two missed calls from Morelli and one from Connie.

Connie, I would call later, Joe's number I was considering blocking.

"Want me to arm the alarm before I go out?" I called.

"Yes," Ranger said. I went in through the house to the garage and armed the alarm, the system beeped, and I got to my cart when I realized I'd forgotten my keys. I turned around and jogged back up the steps and punched in the code to disarm the system; the beeping stopped, but nothing else. That was weird; there was supposed to be a triple beep. I entered the code again, waited for the beeping to stop and the minute to pass and the triple beep to happen again to let me know the system was armed, and then I entered the disarm code. A triple beep followed by a long beep. I armed the system again and disarmed it in the one minute; it just went silent. No beeps to tell me it was disarmed.

"Babe, it's not a toy," Ranger said. Clearly I was driving him bananas.

"No watch," I said. I repeated what I had just done. Ranger frowned and called Hector upstairs with his computer.

"Does he have access to the servers?" I asked.

"Yes," Ranger said. Hector used his access to pull up the log and entered a filter so that only our house showed up. I did the arm and disarm in under a minute thing again, and it didn't show up on Hector's screen.

"Does it take a bit?" I asked.

Ranger repeated the question to Hector, who gave a protracted answer that was half a growl of annoyance and half respectful tone for the boss. Ranger smirked at whatever he said and patted Hector on the shoulder.

"He says 'no,'" Ranger said.

I grinned, "He said more than that."

"It's a glitch in the system that shouldn't exist; he's going to be spending a long time combing through code looking for the problem. He says his list of bugs to fix is already quite extensive, and this is just going to make it worse."

"Next time, don't clean up the language," I said.

I'm pretty sure Hector got the gist of that because he grinned.

"It's a small window of opportunity," I said.

He said something to Hector, and then he looked at me, "Do it again, I want you to arm it with our code and disarm it with the master,"

I'd memorized the code the night before while we had time to kill waiting to get into the guard house. I did as Ranger said. Neither recorded.

"Think this is important?" I asked.

"I think it's something that needs to be fixed, but like you said, that is a small window. You can only exploit it if you know about it."

"I wonder why Roy didn't mention it?" I asked.

"Maybe he doesn't know," Ranger said, "Or maybe he just wanted to see if we would catch it."

He and Hector had a short exchange in Spanish which resulted in Hector getting his tool box for Ranger and then doing something on his computer.

"What's happening now?" I asked.

"We're checking to see if it's a problem with just our panel or if it's universal."

"Okay, that's above my paygrade, I'm going out," I kissed the underside of his jaw, which he acknowledged with a slight tilt of his lips while he contemplated the panel.

It didn't take me long to get to the grocery store, and while I was waiting for my order at the Deli counter, I felt a tap on my shoulder and was greeted by Nadia, who gushed and kissed my cheeks as though we were old friends and she hadn't seen me in ages.

With her was a woman who was pretty much her clone. They were both dressed in neon leggings, and sports bras, with unzipped black Lulu Lemon hoodies over of them. Nadia wore pink leggings and a purple bra, her friend the opposite.

"Didn't I tell you how fashionable she was?" Nadia said. Honestly, that was something I'd never been accused of in my life. I was mostly lazy about clothes unless I was going on a date, in which case I aimed for almost slutty. If I ever tried to be fashionable, I usually managed to land somewhere between decent and at least she tried.

"Look at that! You've been to Milessa's; I've tried that dress on half a dozen times and I just couldn't do it. It just doesn't work for me, and of course, she's told me that over and over, but I just love that little one off. And now she's finally found the body to work it. You have absolutely amazing legs!" Nadia gushed.

"Thanks," I said.

"I've been talking about you and your house since I was in it," Nadia said.

"All good things," her friend said, and they both twittered.

"And I clearly didn't do you justice, or Florida just agrees with you; you're still pale, but you've got a good glow going on!" she said.

Yeah, that had nothing to do with the sun, and my stupid face was not letting me hide that fact because I was smiling again. Nadia was quick to catch on.

"Oh!" She laughed, "I thought he must be good! He has that look about him! You need to see her husband, he's... I can't even describe... like I thought bodies like that only came on seventeen-year-olds or with the help of airbrushing."

"He likes to keep in shape," I said.

"Well for your jobs you'd want to!" Nadia said, "I can't believe I didn't recognize you from that article a few years back, 'the Bombshell Bounty Hunter!'" She mimed it like it was the title of a Broadway play and my name was up in lights, "And then there is all the business with his little girl; she was okay wasn't she? They never disclosed in the papers what happened to her, and we were all so worried about her."

"She had some tranquilizers in her system, so she would be easy to move, but she was otherwise okay," I said. Aside from the PTSD and the fact that for a whole year, if she couldn't get in touch with Ranger or me she had a full-scale panic attack. I wasn't about to tell them that, and she was much better now.

"I can't believe how brave you had to be," Nadia said, "Both of you,"

"I don't think bravery had anything to do with it. A little girl needed help, and not just any little girl, my best friend's little girl. I wanted to do anything I could to get her back; I think anyone would do the same."

"Don't be modest. It was brave," Nadia said and then her eyes widened, "Where the hell are my manners? I need to introduce you two! Stephanie Plum this is, DeeDee. D, this is Steph."

Christ, she was one of those women who had to shorten everyone's names.

I shook hands with DeeDee, "You are coming to the barbecue tonight aren't you?" DeeDee asked.

"As far as I know we're available. Ranger might have to work," I said, "We're supposed to be on vacation, but he has an office in Miami so whenever he's here he has to check in. And of course just before we left there was some kind of client emergency; so he keeps taking off on me,"

"Welcome to our club sweetheart, we meet on Tuesdays and commiserate over girly rum drinks," Deedee said.

"I'm not entirely sure if you're kidding or not," I laughed.

"We aren't," Nadia said, "If the boys can take off at a moments notice, then so can we. Though I'm only an honorary member of the club because we just take it for granted that my husband isn't going to be around."

"I thought you said he handles the real estate around here?" I said.

"He does honey, but he's a real estate attorney; it's not as though we actually need brokers around here. The waiting list for property of any kind is twenty deep, People are happy to take whatever is available. So he just draws up the contracts and sends someone from his firm to witness their execution. No, the house was my second-anniversary present, because I told him if I was going to be in a marriage where I never saw the man I loved, I wanted never to see him from a place with a beach and a pool. From Boxing Day to June First, this is where I live; the rest of the time we're in Boston together, and I swear I see more of him when I'm here."

"I see," I said, "I know we sort of jumped the line, I hope nobody..."

"Oh no, don't worry about that!" DeeDee said, "We hadn't even really started with the Short List yet, and we don't even tell the people on the waiting list that we are considering them. You just find out that you've been accepted. And there are so many members who are hardly ever here that nobody's going to notice that you're new."

"I thought Chase sent out a letter?"

"I like that you call him Chase!" Nadia trilled, "You can tell you're married to a military man! I bet that's what they call each other."

"Nadia, stop being condescending," DeeDee said, "And he did send out a letter; you see he had sort of promised the next piece of property to this lottery winner, named Aaron Nordrake."

"Lottery winner?" I said. Interesting, I thought he didn't want a house here.

"Oh yes, it's a great story," DeeDee said, "So Aaron applied for a house like, forever ago, and Roman says 'no' but they are friends, so we can't understand why he said no. So a few years back, Aaron says he's considering applying again, and Roman says, 'Break 100 next time we play golf.' Aaron says, 'you're on.' but what you have to understand is that Aaron is the worst golfer, so Roman is basically telling him, 'In your dreams.' Roman invites him out to golf once a week for two years; Aaron says 'No,' every time until about two months ago and he hits an 87! He's been golfing every day, one or two rounds a day for two years with some coach that used to work with Tiger Woods. Roman tells him the house is his. Then your man says he's interested in property, and Roman tells Aaron, that he's giving the property to Mr. Manoso."

"But wouldn't that piss him off?"

"Nope, Roman's building a house, custom for Aaron and in the meantime, he'll use a suite at the hotel and Aaron can use his house. Roman's house is gorgeous, and since he's said that Aaron can have anything he wants, on Roman's dime, mind you, Aaron is far from pissed. He's actually got rather pretty designs for his new house but he's tormenting Roman with drawings that look like they are right out of Doctor Seuss, and Roman can't say anything about it!"

"I'd actually love to see a house like that!" I laughed, "That's pretty much the opposite of our house; I'm not drinking my coffee near anything that stains because I'm such a klutz and everything is so pristine. I drink it outside so If I spill on the pool deck, I can always pretend it's not my fault."

Nadia and DeeDee burst into gales of laughter, which was a bit much for the weak joke.

"Anyway," Nadia said, putting her hand on my arm, "Come to the party, everybody is dying to meet you. We'll show you off, and we can all die of laughter behind Richard's back when he meets Ricardo, oh it'll be too funny,"

I smiled at Nadia, doing my best to channel my sister when she lived in California and was perfect. Meanwhile, inside I was cringing at the exaggerated way she drew out Ranger's name. DeeDee didn't hold back. "Christ, Nadia, stop being so God Damned pretentious. Honestly, you're being especially saccharine today; it's making my teeth grate, and I'm your best friend," she said.

"Oh you're just pissy because you know Richard is going to be an ass when faced with a man who's more man than he is," Nadia said.

The two bickered for a few more minutes until my order showed up. I'd forgotten what I was picking up for dinner, but I was going to have to cook it anyways because Hector wouldn't be going to the barbecue and Ranger wouldn't eat much at a backyard barbecue. I paid and left the bickering friends, and walked back out to the lot. Nordrake was 1000% off of my list now. He liked Roman too much to mess with him like this, and besides, he was getting the chance to build his dream home, why would he be pissed? My only question was how did DeeDee know him so well if he didn't socialize with the PRs? I guess he couldn't avoid them completely but if DeeDee was looking at drawings, then didn't that imply a closer relationship?

I pulled out onto the main road and was wondering if there was some way I could get out of the party that night. Yes, it was for work, and I'd get oodles of information from it, but I wasn't a big fan of being the centre of attention and Ranger was even more camera shy than I was, and I wasn't wild about the way Nadia was talking. I felt like the new girl in school who is invited to the popular girl's table because they want to know if she 'fits in.'

Besides, I wasn't feeling professional that day anyway; I was still on a high from the night before. Telling me he loves me in a flip way, was one thing, but the way he said it the night before was giving me Disney character levels of happy. If I wasn't careful, I was going to burst into spontaneous song and dance, and I'd damn well expect everyone to join in with perfect choreography and harmony thank you very much. And I wouldn't object to a few woodland creatures to do my bidding either. Christ, I was grossing myself out. With that realization, also came the realization that I had no fucking idea where I was. I'm pretty sure I'd turned a knot too soon.

Now since everything connects back to the main road, you would think that it would be easy to retrace your steps, but because everything is designed after a knot and Chase had been anal about his design, there were a lot of one-way streets and subtle curves, and you could seriously get lost.

I happened to be 'lucky' enough to get myself turned around the wrong way in a knot called Carrick Mat. Carrick mat was a relatively new development in the neighbourhood and was made up of a mess of overlapping loops that formed a pattern similar to a clover leaf. Twice. One within the other. And I had no idea where I was inside the damned knot. I couldn't remember the street names because there was a zillion of them, so I pulled out my phone to call Billy to get him to untangle my sense of direction.

"Oh that knot's an easy one, it just looks tricky. All you have to do is follow whatever road you are on," he said after he picked up and I explained the situation, "It'll either take you to the centre of the mat or it'll take you to Reef Knot. If it takes you to the centre, take any road that you'll be driving the right way down, and it'll get you out."

"There has to be a faster way," I said.

"There is, but it's a pain in the ass to follow, so unless you live on it, nobody ever tries," Billy said. I hung up with him and followed his directions until I came to the centre of the mat and did as he said.

As I cruised around, I saw a few people out in their yards chatting with neighbours; strangers waved to me as I drove by and I waved back. Like the snow on Morelli's car, there was something bothering me, something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I knew it was important. What I needed was a second set of trained eyes. I needed Ranger. So once I got out, and back to our own pain in the ass knot, I parked the golf cart in the garage and walked up the stairs.

I was about to open the door to go inside when I had a thought. I started the stopwatch on my watch and walked back down to the golf cart, started it, and backed out of the space. I closed the garage door, waited for it to shut completely and then got out of the cart and walked to the security panel that would open the door without the remote. I punched in the code; the garage door opened, I walked back into the house and to the security panel. It took me 2 minutes and 20 seconds.

I reparked my golf cart in the garage and timed just how long it took for the door to close. 20 seconds, 22 seconds to open it again. "Ranger!" I called.

"In the office," He called back.

"I need you and your picks. I want to check something," I said. He ambled towards me, eating an apple. His feet were bare and for some reason, I found this combination sexy. Maybe I just found him sexy and seeing him snack made him seem deliciously normal. Or maybe I was just jealous of the apple.

"Babe?" He said. I forced myself to focus and reset the timer on my watch.

"Go outside, take my remote and I want you to open and close the garage door. Then come round to the front door, pick the locks and come inside."

Ranger, to his credit, managed not to look at me like I was crazy, but he did tug one of my curls, gave he a quick kiss, handed me his apple and went outside. As soon as I heard the garage door start to open, I started my timer. One minute and ten seconds later he was standing in front of me again.

"Care to share?"

"It wouldn't be easy to exploit the one minute window," I said. I filled him in on my little experiment.

"I'm slipping," he said.

"You had to wait for the garage door, that's 42 seconds, and I can't imagine our locks are easy to pick," I said. He shrugged and took his apple back; I liked casual Ranger.

"My point, show off," I said, "Is that you have superhuman skills. I'm willing to bet not everybody can pick a lock as quickly as you can, but using you as a baseline, you still can't beat the one minute window, and that's if whoever is getting into the golf cart doesn't take their time."

"You don't think he's exploiting the window," Ranger said.

"That's just it, my gut says that he is; I just don't see how," I said.

"Trust your gut," Ranger said, "It's hardly ever wrong, but keep your mind open to other possibilities."

"I know they aren't your style, but there's something else,"

"If you really want to do dinner and a movie, I'll do it, but I can't today," he said.

"I want you to ride around in the golf cart with me," I said.

He stared at me, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, "Let me amend that, I want you to drive me around in the golf cart; I need a second set of eyes," I said.

"I have a conference call at 1400," he said, I did the math, he had a conference call at 2:00, "It should take me about an hour; I'm all yours after that,"

"I'll just go work on my tan then," I said and went to walk by him, he snagged the back of my dress and tugged me backwards.

"You've got work to do," he said.

"What? I don't work for you except on this, and I don't know what else to do until I have you with me," I said.

"You work for Vinnie, and you have a high bond to bring in. Hector spent all of yesterday gathering every little bit of information about Jankowitz that he could find. Jankowitz didn't go to Peru out of a burning desire to see Machu Pichu and people don't just throw a dart at a map when they choose to flee the country. Comb through his life and see if you can find the Peruvian connection; see if can get a good idea of the general area he's staying in."

"What's the point? I can't afford to fly to Peru to pick him up."

"Vinnie will be out a million bucks if Jankowitz isn't brought in. He'll cough up a couple of grand in airfare for us to go pick him up."

"You're going to help me?"

"I like when you owe me favours," he said. He kissed me on the forehead and steered me to the office.

I parked my ass at my desk and fired up my laptop where I found a new icon on the desktop entitled, "Peru." I decided to start with his Social Media, hoping to see if he had any of the same friends I did. If he did, I'd call them and ask them if they knew why he would go to Peru. His Facebook had to have been the most boring account in the history of the website. He had ten friends, nobody I knew, and he last posted two years ago. The post was scintillating. He had bacon infused macaroni at a restaurant that shaped his pasta into a sculpture of a pig. As far as food pictures went, it was a cool one, but it was still a picture of food.

I combed back through old posts; his messages were mostly from people asking if they were the Ronnie Jankowitz, who lived at such and such address, however, many years ago. Really, how many Ronald Jankowitzes could there actually be? His Twitter was worse than his Facebook. He never posted anything, and he had one follower; it was his mom. Instagram was a bit more interesting; it would seem that Jankowitz was a bit of a foodie. All of his pictures were of gourmet meals at various restaurants.

He posted a lot and I was starting to get hungry combing through his pictures, so I closed my laptop and went to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal for a late lunch.

It was just about 3:00 when Ranger came into the kitchen, I was bored with Jankowitz, so I was flipping through the pictures I'd taken of the neighbourhood on my phone. I was getting the same feeling that I was missing something as I had when I was driving around Carrick Mat. I was bent over the counter resting my arms on it, absently eating my bowl of Froot Loops, when Ranger put a hand on my hip. I straightened up and leaned back against him.

"Learn anything interesting?" Ranger asked folding his arms around my waist.

"He likes to take pictures of food and post them with the hashtag, no filter," I said.

"Good for him."

"Hey, I have a question," I said and turned in his arms.

"I might have answers," Ranger replied.

"This is supposed to be the best security anywhere, if the man who was in charge of it wasn't an idiot, and you plugged the existing holes, would you agree with that assessment?"

He gave a half shrug, "I think some aspects of it are unnecessarily complicated, making it look stronger than it is. Redundancy is good when it comes to protection, but excessive amounts lead to a false sense of security and complacency on the human level."

"The human level is a problem you always have to face though right?"

"Yes," he said.

"And everybody is different, so you would think that having the same security setup in every house wouldn't work, like would you use this system for me?"

"No," Ranger said, "I've found that what works best for you is a panic button, a bunch of trackers and as much surveillance as you will tolerate. Your nutcases tend to follow you wherever you go, a security system like this isn't going to prevent that from happening."

"But the gated community?"

"Babe, if I thought I could get you to move into a gated community with real security, I would be thrilled, but I can't even convince you to move into one of the rent-free apartments in my building."

"Well, that's because you live there too, and I was sort of engaged to Morelli," I said, "The guilt would have given me an ulcer."

"I have an apartment open for you to take whenever you want it; you can move in when you get back," he said.

"Well, then I'm like the paid mistress who is trading luxury for sex. That makes me feel icky too. Besides, those apartments are for staff," I said. He chuckled and shook his head, "Also, you did say that stalking me was your hobby."

"I'd find a new one," he kissed me and my phone vibrated on the counter with an incoming text. It was from Morelli; again. I didn't read it.

"Shall we?" I asked and grabbed my phone and keys from the counter, and he motioned for me to go out to the golf cart.

We cruised around the neighbourhood for a while, checking out houses, not saying much. We came out of our third knot when I decided I needed coffee, so Ranger swung out onto Reef Knot. "Did you see anything?" I asked.

"The human element," he said, "You're right, he is exploiting the one-minute window."

"How?" I asked.

"The garage doors on more than half of the properties are open," he said, "And a lot of the bays are empty."

I sighed in frustration, "Well now that you say that, it's totally obvious!"

That's what was bothering me, not so much that the garage doors were open, but because the garages were empty!

"Babe," Ranger said. My phone buzzed in the cup holder, and Ranger handed it to me, "Read the messages."

"No," I said and put the phone back in the cup holder.

"You aren't doing it to avoid him; you're ignoring him because you are afraid that if you read them, I'm going to think you're going to go back to him."

"Well aren't you?" I asked.

"No," he said, "Just read the damn text messages."

"Fuck," I said and returned the phone to the cupholder... again. Ranger cocked an eyebrow.

"He says he knows where we are, and he's coming down to talk some sense into me." I kicked the dash of the golf cart, in the general vicinity of my phone. "You know what's stupid about this whole thing? He's convinced I broke up with him because he didn't return my calls and he thinks that if he can just explain that he was under orders not to call me, and that he was trying to get around it by using Eddie as a go-between, that I'll take him back. But that's not why, and I've told him."

"Why does he think that's the reason you broke up with him?" Ranger asked. So I filled him in on the conversation with Mary Lou the day before.

Ranger pulled into a local beauty spot that overlooked the harbour and parked the cart. When I finished the story, he didn't say anything for a long time. Instead, he contemplated the new information and the scenery for the world's longest minute and a half.

"You need to hear the man out..."

"No, I don't..."

"Stephanie," he turned to look at me, the relaxed and almost playful mood he'd been in all day was gone, "You do have to hear him out. I'm not sending you back to Morelli; I said I wouldn't do that, and I'm not, but I've said it before; my life doesn't lend itself to relationships. I meant what I said last night; I love you. That's not going to change, but the rational thing would be to repair your relationship with him. He's a good man..."

"Just stop it, Ranger," I said. I knew everything he was going to say; I didn't need to hear him say it again,"You're right; Morelli is a good man and that's why I will probably always love him. But if I were to repair my relationship with him, we'd be divorced in two years over something stupid like olive juice in the peanut butter. I'm a big girl, and I know what's good for me, and I'll say it until I'm blue in the face, I'm not expecting more than what we have Ranger, and last night was too special for you to go fucking it up with your bullshit."

"You want more Stephanie."

"You're fucking right I do! I love you, and if someone told me I could pick any man in the world to be with forever, it would be you. But you've made it damn clear it's not what you want, that it's not an option, so I'll take you any way I can get you. Best friend with seriously good benefits works damn well for me, thank you very much." I saw his jaw tick, and I could practically hear the thoughts running through his head, "Don't you for one second think about going all distant on me because you think you're protecting me. If you do, when we get back I'm going to walk down Stark Street at midnight, shooting at random gangbangers until someone comes after me and you have to rescue me."

"Are you finished?" He asked.

"Depends on whether or not you're going to lecture me on how bad for me you are."

He rolled his eyes and shifted the cart out of park and into reverse. It let out a shrill beep, and we went back two feet before he slammed on the brake and jammed it into park again. He turned to look at me; I didn't need to try to read micro expressions this time. He wasn't happy, and that was pretty clear.

"I said that it was the rational thing to do. I've never once said that sending you away is what I wanted. Not once." His voice hadn't increased in volume, so much as it changed in tone. He was pissed, and I didn't care, I was pissed too.

"What's your point?" I asked.

"My point is that I've loved you for so long I can't remember what it's like not to, and you think this is what I want? Do you think I like seeing Morelli within twenty feet of you? Do you think I like seeing you after I know you've had a night of, what does he call it? 'Balls to the wall Gorilla sex?' I fucking hate it. Do you even have the first idea of what it feels like for me to make love to you and know that in the morning, you're going to be thinking about him and telling me that what we've just done, makes you feel bad about yourself? It kills me Stephanie; I've put my fist through the drywall at the front entrance to my apartment so many times that Ella's husband keeps a bucket of drywall plaster and a can of paint in the credenza by the door. Does that sound like I want you to go?"

"N-no," I said.

"Well fuck it, I'm done with that shit, and I'm taking my own advice for once," he said and turned the key in the golf cart's ignition.

"Wh-what does that mean?" I was surprised I could actually form the words. I could feel panic rising in my chest, and I was becoming light headed. This wasn't happening. Not after everything. Not after last night. Breaking up with Morelli wasn't supposed to mean the end for Ranger and me too. I couldn't breathe.

"It means I'm fucking tired of messing around with this, and I'm listening to your instincts. When this job is over, this engagement of ours? It's as real as you want it to be. And if Morelli shows up at my house, I'll shoot him for trespassing." Ranger said.

He stomped on the parking break, releasing the brake pedal, and slammed the gear shift into reverse; while I sat there staring at him in frozen shock.

The first time Ranger ever loaned me a car it was his shiny new Porsche Boxter, and it gave me the Big O just driving it. Ranger loved that car. Everybody knew Ranger loved that car. So when it got blown up and then pancaked by a garbage truck, we were all pretty sure that he was going to make me disappear. Maybe lock me in a crate and ship me to Myanmar or something. I was terrified of telling him. I was expecting him to be angry. Instead, he thought the whole thing was funny and said, "I especially like the part about the garbage truck." he hugged me, told me that it was just a car and cars could be replaced but people couldn't and asked if I was okay. I'd been floored. Absolutely floored. I thought about it for weeks. I will probably never forget the look on his face when he said it. After that day, it takes a hell of a lot to really surprise me anymore. I've more or less become resigned to the fact that my life is amazingly fucked up.

This was the Boxter all over again. I was expecting him to tell me that this was a bad idea and he was sending me home. If not that, he was going to pull away, spend more nights in Miami, be around when I needed him to be visible, back me up when I needed it, but no more hot sweaty nights, no more failed attempts at swimming together. I thought it was over; that we were over. I didn't know what the hell to make of this. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn't notice that we'd stopped in a parking space in front of the coffee shop until Ranger spoke again.

"If you keep making that face it's going to get stuck like that."

"I'm… I… What's changed?" I asked. He got out of the cart and came around to my side; he took my hand and half dragged me towards the boardwalk. He didn't say anything until we'd made it well past the crowds and were on a deserted stretch where there were no houses or businesses. Just us and a jogger off in the distance.

"Nothing has changed," he said, "I can't offer you stability; there will be a lot of nights like the other night where I have to leave, only I won't be able to tell you why. People are going to try to kill you just to hurt me. I won't willingly have more children because of what happened with Julie, and it's entirely possible that the next time I go into the wind, I won't come back, and you won't ever know what's happened to me. I can't change any of that; it's the reality of what being married to me would be like."

"Then why even suggest it, if you think it's such a bad idea?" I asked, hating the way my voice broke when I said it. I wanted to be all calm and act like the other shoe I'd been waiting to drop didn't just kick me in the stomach.

"Because I love you, and it's becoming increasingly difficult not to seriously harm Morelli when I see him."

"Do you want to marry me?" I asked, "I need to know what you want."

"What I want is for you to move into my apartment, so I don't lose any more sleep worrying about somebody breaking into your place at night. I want you to take advantage of our friendship. It drives me crazy that I know you were going to have Connie pay me some stupid percentage of your paycheck if you found Jankowitz, because you wanted to plug your laptop into my servers for a while. It costs me nothing, and I want to help you, I like helping you. It's like you're so worried that I'm going to think you're using me that you completely fail to see that you have me wrapped around your finger.

I don't want to have to go to sleep knowing that another man is touching what's mine. I want you to realize that I don't leave after we've spent time together because I'm avoiding you, Stephanie. I leave because after you leave my place, I have to get used to not coming home to you and I can't if my bed still smells like you."

"You're the one who sends me away! I wouldn't leave if you didn't make it clear that any arrangement is temporary. I hate going back to my place."

"I send you away because of how much I want you to stay," he cupped my cheek, "I want you too much, Babe. I want you to have everything you want, and you were brought up in a time warp where tradition is important, and I can't give you that. About the only certainty, I can give you is that I love you, and as long as I am alive, I will be there when you need me."

His thumb brushed a traitorous tear from my cheek and I swallowed hard, and said, "The idea of settling down in a traditional marriage literally gives me hives. The idea of quitting my job to raise a bunch of kids is about as appealing as the prospect of stabbing myself in the eye with a potato peeler. The rest? Haven't I already proven to you that the psychopaths that don't like you, aren't going to scare me away? Haven't I proven to you, that you can't scare me away?"

"If you were anybody else, it would have."

"But I'm not, and it didn't," I said, "If it's what you want, if it's really what you want, and you aren't asking me because you think that's the only way you'll get me, then propose to me and I promise I'll say yes. But I don't need it Ranger; I really don't. I'm already yours Ranger, and I have been for a long time."

He searched my face, his dark eyes looking deep into mine; his penetrating gaze was looking for something, and I had no idea what it was. Then, just like that, he kissed me. The kiss was Ranger unleashed; it was hard, almost desperate and completely possessive. If I weren't already his before, I would have been after that kiss.

"Marry me. Soon. Before this stops making sense," he said, his breath ragged.

"Yes."

He kissed me again, just as fiercely and I found my feet actually leave the ground as he lifted me to his height. My arms were around his neck and I wasn't afraid, I didn't think this was a mistake, all I could think about was how happy I was. This was the feeling that was never there when Morelli asked, this feeling wasn't there when Dickie asked me to marry him. This was right; this was the way it's supposed to feel and the reason why I could never say 'yes' to Morelli. I was looking for this.

Ranger put me back down when the need for oxygen became a problem, but he didn't let me go. He held me tight to him, resting his chin on my head.

"It's such a good thing you pulled your head out of your ass because I was all talk about being okay with being just friends." I said, half laughing, half crying, "I don't care if it makes me a hypocrite; if I ever saw you with another woman, it wouldn't be pretty. I'd probably kill her with my bare hands and enjoy it."

"I don't know if I could come up with a better reason to marry you than that," he deadpanned, "Getting rid of a body and disposing of evidence is time-consuming, and I'm a busy guy."

"Two witnesses and a priest?" I asked.

"As soon as you're ready," he said.

He was about to kiss me again when I found myself stumbling as he suddenly shoved me behind him and blocked the fist flying towards him.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hi! I can't tell you how much your reviews made me smile, thank you so much!**

It seemed to happen in slow motion, Ranger narrowly avoided Morelli's first punch but wasn't so lucky with the second one. It connected solidly with Ranger's jaw, the force of the punch knocking him backward half a step. Ranger swung back and connected with Morelli's lip. I didn't want another Hawaii on my hands, neither of them had been in good shape afterward, so when Ranger nailed Joe and Morelli staggered back I used the opportunity to step between them to break it up.

You know how there are things that don't seem like a bad idea until you look at them in hindsight? Joe used to box in the Navy and had a reputation for being smart, fast and having one hell of a right hook. These were things I failed to take into account, but was reminded of quite suddenly when Joe, moving faster than I was prepared for him to, swung at the precise moment that I stepped between them. Joe's fist connected with my cheek and jaw, and for a second all I was aware of was a loud ringing in my ears, a desire to throw up and stars.

When the stars cleared and the pain started, I realized I was on my ass, being supported by a young mother in running clothes, she was rifling through a diaper bag attached to her jogging stroller, looking for something, "I'm calling Security," she said.

The wet crunch of cartilage breaking snapped our attention back to the fight as we watched Joe, valiantly try to fend off an extremely pissed off Ranger; the noise we'd heard was the sound of his nose being relocated. Then in a movement so quick that it stunned all of us, in one movement, Ranger threw Joe down onto the ground and drew his weapon, chambering a round as he leveled the gun at Morelli.

"Fuck," I said and struggled to get up, with the mother's support, "Call security."

I stumbled back towards the fight, forcing myself to shake off the spins from standing up too fast.

"Ranger I'm okay; don't kill him," I said a little desperately.

"Give me a good reason," he said.

"There are witnesses, and you'd go to jail," I said.

"Defense of a third party," Ranger said, his voice clipped.

"Ranger, he's a cop. If you kill him, they aren't going to care why and even if you got off, it would be bad for business," I said, "Besides, it would be gross, and I'd throw up."

Ranger's finger came off of the trigger, but the gun was still pointed at Morelli. I heard the sound of security arriving on their golf carts, there were eight of them; I was guessing they had back up from the hotel. Billy and Roy were with them. Roy was ashen and frozen to his golf cart; Billy had already jumped off and was on his way to us. I waved him off, and he motioned for the others to keep their distance.

"Please Ranger, you're scaring me," I said and put my hand on his arm.

Ranger didn't take his eyes off of Joe, but he did lower his gun and let me take it from him,and he didn't protest when I took his second one from the holster at the back of his pants. I stepped slightly out of his reach and motioned for Billy to relieve me of them because I had nowhere to stash them on my dress.

Joe took his eyes off of Ranger and looked at me, "Cupcake I…" he started, but I cut him off.

"Shut up Morelli," I said and sent up a quiet prayer that Morelli wouldn't be stupid and would realize that Ranger was probably doing a mental inventory of how many different ways he could kill Morelli right now, without any weapons. I stepped between them again, forcing Ranger to look at me, he gently tilted my face so he could see the damage caused by Morelli's punch, and I watched the anger flash in his eyes again.

"Stop it," I said, "We both know that he would never hit me on purpose. Besides I only fell because he surprised me, Joe hits like a girl."

"I scared you?" he said, his eyebrow cocked.

"Fuck no, I just needed to say something to get your attention," I said, "Let me handle Morelli; you chill out Security before they get smart and call the real cops."

The impassive look Ranger gave Roy did actually scare me a little bit. What Ranger did to Morelli didn't scare me at all, yeah it wasn't pretty but it was easy to diffuse. All you had to do was get Ranger to listen long enough for him to get even the tiniest grasp on his emotions and then he could lock them down. Once he was no longer reactive it didn't take much to get him to back down. When he was working and taking down bad guys, he was perfectly calm. If he had to fight or shoot someone, it was part of the job, and he wasn't emotionally invested. When he was at his most dangerous though was when he was the way he was now. In control of himself and pissed off. He sort of gave off the vibe that he would take his time so he could savor the bodily injury he was about to inflict on you.

"Take comfort in the fact that when you take over, you can fire his ass for gross incompetence and leave it at that," I whispered urgently.

"No promises," Ranger said.

"We'll meet you at the gate," I said.

He glanced back at Morelli on the ground. The woman who helped me had given Morelli a receiving blanket to stem the flow of the blood from his nose, and she was attempting to clean him up with a travel pack of baby wipes. Ranger grabbed me, kissed me hard and with quite a bit more tongue than he usually used in public, before he went to make Roy regret his most recent life choices.

"Thanks, I've got this," I said to the woman.

"I should give Security my statement, so your fiance doesn't get arrested," she said.

"What did you see?" I asked.

"A seriously hot kiss and then this idiot going all king of the apes and throwing the first punch," she said. She handed me a business card, "In case you decide to press charges, and you need a witness."

"That's won't be necessary," I said and looked at the card, it said she was a corporate strategist for some business I'd never heard of before, her name was Tara Gillespie, "Thanks for your help Tara."

"Good luck," she said and retrieved her stroller, leaving me with the baby wipes and Tarzan. I looked at him; he was looking mildly pathetic with his soft yellow duckie blanket and rapidly bruising eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I hissed at him, "You're lucky he didn't kill you!"

"What the hell was I thinking?" he hissed back, taking the blanket away from his nose, the bleeding seemed to have stopped for the moment, "Your mother told me that what happened in Trenton was for show. Well, I think somebody forgot to tell Manoso that because the way he was looking at you before he kissed you, had nothing to do with a job. He wants this to be real, Cupcake."

"It is real you idiot; I broke up with you for real. If you had just let me speak when you called, I would have told you that, but you had to go and trace the stupid call!"

"What the fuck Stephanie?" he snapped, "You broke up with me so you could come here and fuck him with a clear conscience?"

"No you jackass; I told you why I broke up with you when I broke up with you. I don't know what more you want me to say but listen to me right now, my relationship with Ranger is real. We're getting married as soon as this job is finished," I said, "This isn't pretending, this isn't me acting for the sake the crowd, this is me telling you the truth. Believe me, don't believe me, it's entirely up to you, but if you fuck this up for me, I'll tell everyone we broke up because I discovered you caught Herpes from Joyce."

"Joyce?" Joe said, looking disgusted.

"You've slept with her before; it's plausible," I said, "And I'll get all the sympathy because I'll remind everyone that she's the reason my first marriage ended. You'll be lucky if you get laid again."

"It's been a while since we've been at war, Cupcake. I forgot how vicious you can be when your hackles are up," Joe said.

"Yeah, well I think you broke my face, so you're just going to have to live with my inner bitch for a while," I grumbled.

"I don't know how I'm going to handle the adjustment, Stephanie. I thought we were getting passed our problems. I thought we were in a good place," he said.

"We were just ignoring our problems, Joe. For Christ's sake, the foundation of our relationship was good sex and a mutual love for hockey and pizza."

"I've seen relationships built on a lot less," Joe said.

"You'd think after a few years there would be a lot more, wouldn't you?" I said.

"It's going to kill me to see you with him," Joe said.

"Yeah, and when you find someone, I'm probably not going to like it either, and I probably won't like her. But you aren't mine, and I'm not yours so we'll both have to get over it."

There was an awkward silence where neither of us knew what to say next; then Joe cursed because his nose started bleeding again.

"Your nose is broken; you need to see a doctor," I said, "We'll take you."

"I have a car," he said.

"Yeah and you don't know where you're going, and you probably have a concussion. I didn't just save you from a public execution for testosterone fueled stupidity, only for you to kill yourself behind the wheel of your car," I said and hauled him to his feet.

He swayed for a second, leaned on my shoulder until he got his bearings and I took him back to the golf cart. I made him sit on the rear facing back seat and helped him do up his seatbelt since he was once again trying to stop the bleeding.

"I don't hit like a girl," Joe said.

"I thought it would be stupid tell him the girl in question was Ronda Rousey. Ranger has been in an exceptionally good mood today and not feeling all that predisposed towards upsetting me, which is the only reason you aren't a grease spot on the boardwalk right now."

"I got that impression," Joe said.

I got into the driver's seat and drove down to the boardwalk to wait for Ranger. "What are you two doing down here anyway?" Morelli asked.

"Joe..."

"Throw me a bone, Cupcake. I need something to take my mind off of the fact that my nose is at a right angle, and it's because the woman I was planning to marry is marrying someone else," Joe said.

"Nice try with the guilt trip, Joe. Too bad your nose is fucked up because you're an idiot and not because I'm marrying Ranger," I said, I turned to look at him, "How did you get in here in the first place?"

He shrugged, "I handed my ID to the guard at the gate; he entered it into his computer, and he opened the gate."

"Did you give him your badge?" I asked.

"No, just my driver's license. Why?" he asked.

"No reason," I said, "How did you get onto the boardwalk?"

"Held the door for a woman who had her hands full with a bunch of kids," Joe said. The fucking human factor again.

I saw Ranger approaching, so I slid over to the passenger seat. He got into the cart and sat next to me.

"We need to give Morelli a lift to the hospital for his nose," I said. Ranger ignored Morelli and examined my cheek and jaw again.

"Are your ears ringing?" He asked.

"Not anymore," I said.

His jaw clenched, but he put the cart in reverse, turned us around and headed in the direction of the hospital. The ER was a ghost town when we walked in; Joe was taken back immediately, and a plastic surgeon was summoned. The triage nurse who evaluated Morelli looked at my face and looked at Ranger, "She needs to be examined as well, the doctor is probably going to want to do an x-ray of that cheek."

"I am standing right here," I said.

"Yes, but if I tell you, you'll refuse. If I tell him, you'll actually consent to an examination by a doctor; I know your type," She said. She got me an ice pack for my cheek and took my vitals while Ranger filled out paperwork. Once he finished that, we went to the waiting room to wait for the doctor.

"So, did you kill Roy? Or are you waiting so you can make it look like an accident?" I asked.

"He's not dead; but I've told him to clean out his desk," Ranger said.

"Do you have the authority to do that yet?" I asked.

"I don't, but Chase will fire him the minute I tell him what happened. Morelli was on our proscribed list of visitors for this exact reason," Ranger said.

"I've gotta say, not particularly wild about you two fighting over me," I said, "This is the second time, and it wasn't hot either time. So if you could prevent this from becoming a habit, I'd appreciate it."

"I wasn't fighting over you, this time, I was defending myself," Ranger said.

"Right," I said and went to roll my eyes, but it hurt, so I readjusted my ice pack. My left hand was getting cold, so I switched hands.

"I was fighting over you in Hawaii because I was pissed. I didn't get a lot of time alone with you like that, and he blew his chance to be there with you. This time, I really was just defending myself," he said, "Then he hit you, and I wanted to kill him."

"I noticed," I said, "Just promise me something?"

"What's that?"

"If my face is broken, you won't do anything stupid like shoot Morelli?"

"Let me see," Ranger said, taking the ice pack from me. I tilted my head so he could look at it for the third time, "I doubt it's broken; if it is, it's a minor fracture, I'm more concerned about a concussion. Any nausea?"

"A little when he hit me," I said, "But you're dodging the request."

I shivered a bit, from a combination of the cool, air conditioned waiting room, the icepack and probably a little bit of shock. Ranger moved closer and put his arm around me. I snuggled against him for the warmth (and because I wanted to); with his left hand, he gently stroked the hair from my forehead in a repetitive, gentle, motion. Then he held the ice pack against my cheek with his hand. The combination was hypnotic, and I was tempted to drift off but didn't. "Ranger," I said warningly, "I know what you're doing..."

He chuckled, "I promise I won't cause Morelli any further injury, but I reserve the right to prolong the healing of any current ones."

"Ranger!"

"Best you're going to get out of me," he said, "Consider it a compromise because you didn't let me shoot him."

I grinned and then regretted it because it hurt. Twenty minutes later I was called back to the exam room, the doctor declared me concussion free and then sent me for an x-ray. Ranger was right; it was an extremely mild fracture, and there was no bone displacement, so I was given a bottle of painkillers, told to avoid hitting my face on anything for the next little while and then discharged.

It was another half an hour before Joe came out and he was looking pretty rough. They'd cleaned up the blood on his face, but both of his eyes were black, his nose swollen but straight and his eyes had the glazed look of someone off his face on the good stuff. Ranger agreed to take Morelli back to his hotel, in Morelli's car and then get a lift back to the house.

As we were driving back towards the shopping district, and Joe's car, we passed the grocery store. The lot was nearly empty save for one man who was transferring a bags from his shopping cart into the back of a golf cart designed to look like an old school pink Cadillac. He was talking on his phone, and from the way he was gesticulating, I knew two things. One, he was New Jersey Italian and two he was not very happy with whoever he was talking to on the phone. He turned his head slightly, and I realized I knew who it was.

"Stop!" I said. Ranger slammed on the brakes, nearly catapulting Morelli off of the back of the golf cart. He looked a bit disappointed when Morelli managed to hang on.

"Isn't that Nicky the Sparrow?" I asked. Both men looked toward the parking lot and the man now sitting in the golf cart, shouting abuse over the phone.

Nicky the Sparrow worked for Harry the Hammer, Vinnie's father in law. He was muscle and known to take on the occasional hit, and he was good, really good. Everybody knew that for the right price Nicky would whack someone, but you knew it in kind of the way you know about oxygen. You know that if you're in a room and breathing, then it's a good bet there's Oxygen in the room. You can't see it because it's invisible, but hey, you're alive so it must be true. The same principal applied to Nicky the Sparrow. Every now and then Harry bought Nicky a new car, and this meant one of Harry's enemies was about to die of natural causes. There was never any physical or circumstantial evidence (aside from the car) to prove Nicky had carried out the hit or often if it even was a hit, but Nicky had a new ride, and someone was dead, so it must be true that Nicky killed him.

I hadn't seen Nicky in a while, but I was almost certain it was him.

"Sure looks like it, but my vision is a bit blurry right now." Joe said, "And I might be hallucinating from whatever pain killer the doctor shot me full of when he reset my nose."

"What the hell is he doing in Florida? Doesn't Harry usually keep Nicky pretty close?" I asked.

"He does," Joe said, "I highly doubt he's here on vacation, he's probably here on a job, but what that job is?" Joe did palms up.

"The Cadillac does look new," Ranger said.

I looked at Ranger, "He's not on the list of PRs or Club Members; I think we would have noticed that. He's either using an alias or he's here as someone's guest."

"He can't have been here long," Ranger said, "I saw him at the Bonds Office before I went to the airport. Nicky was there to emphasize Harry's displeasure at some of the risks Vinnie has been taking lately."

"Do you think he's here because Harry's pissed that you pulled me out of Trenton?" I asked.

"Unlikely, but possible. Either way, his presence here could cause us some problems; we're going to have to figure out what he's doing here," Ranger said.

"I knew things were moving along just a little too smoothly," I said. Ranger nodded and pulled a u-turn to take us back to the house.

A few minutes later, Ranger pulled into the driveway and hit the garage door remote. He parked the golf cart in it's bay, and we all got out. Morelli eyed the truck and the Porche. "That's better," he said, and Ranger glanced at him, "Seeing you drive the golf cart was just fucking weird."

Ranger gave a snort of agreement and went to unlock the door. What the fuck was that? Two hours ago they were going to kill each other! I followed them into the house, and they went out to the dining room, and Ranger grabbed a couple of beer from the minibar and handed one to Morelli. Hector was in the kitchen with his laptop and a sandwich.

He looked at me with my bruised cheek and looked out to the dining room where Morelli and Ranger weren't speaking, just sedately drinking beer. "Que pasa?"

"Fucked if I know," I said, and Hector offered me half of his sandwich.

"Margarita?" he asked. I handed Hector my bottle of painkillers and he read the label, "Margarita." he said.

Hector and I didn't need to speak the same language; we communicated on a higher level. Together we located what we'd need for the drink, and I handed Hector ingredients as he dumped them into the blender. That done he poured us each a big glass, and I took a sip. What was dangerous about this, was I saw how much Tequilla was in that drink, and I couldn't taste it.

I took my margarita out to the table and sat down. Ranger eyed the glass but wisely kept his comments to himself. Joe pulled his phone out and started typing away.

"There's one about ten miles east of here," Joe said.

"Thanks," Ranger said.

"One what?"

"The McDonalds he's going to get your breakfast from in the morning," Joe said. I glared at them both.

"Why did you bring him back here?" I asked Ranger.

He motioned for us to follow him back into the office. He parked my ass behind his desk and motioned for Morelli to sit at mine.

"The phones in here are secure, call Connie and whoever else you call when you need information." he said to me.

"I usually call mom, Joe and you. Between the four of you, I have Trenton covered." I said.

"Then we've saved you two phone calls," he leaned down and lowered his voice, "Make sure he understands that if he touches you again, it won't be pretty."

"You just said that you were too busy to dispose of a body," I reminded him.

"I'd make time." He kissed my forehead and went out onto the deck with his cell phone.

"This is where we are different; if I were in his shoes I wouldn't leave you alone in here after today," Joe said as he picked up the phone.

"He trusts me, and he's no longer needs to worry about witnesses," I said.

"Nevermind, then," Joe said and began dialing.

"Yeah," Connie said when she answered her cell.

"Hey Connie," I said, "I need you to get me some informa-"

"What the hell is going on!?" Connie yelled so loud I had to take the phone away from my ear.

"It's a long story."

"No, you can't just say, 'it's a long story.' Nuh Uh, not this time. See I've pieced together that the engagement is fake, and you're working, but you are definitely sleeping together."

"How did you work that out?"

"Because you wouldn't want to lie to us over something big, which is why Ranger gave you the mittens to hide the doorknob on your left hand," Connie said.

"Well, don't tell anyone your theories, especially not Lula," I said.

"I wouldn't tell Lula and fuck up your job. She'd have it all over Twitter before I could finish speaking. So how's paradise with Batman?"

"Great until Morelli showed up and forgot about evolution," I said.

"That's twice now; did you have a stun gun on you this time?"

"Nope, I did something better. I decided it would be fun to try to break it up this time before it got ugly, and have a broken cheek now, courtesy of Morelli," I said.

"So you're in the Keys right?"

"Yeah,"

"Look for a Mangrove forest. Now what you've gotta do is chop the body up into medium sized pieces and weight them. The crocs will take care the rest for you."

"Ranger didn't kill him," I said.

"How did you manage that?"

"I put him in a pretty good mood before they went at it by saying I'd marry him for real. Because we want to and not for a job," I said. There was dead silence on the other end of the phone. It lasted so long I thought we'd been disconnected, "Connie, are you there?"

"I'm sorry, I blacked out there for a minute. Are you serious?" Connie asked.

"Yup," I said, I gave Connie a minute to digest that, "Believe it or not, I have stranger news than that."

"Are you pregnant with Batman's baby?" Connie asked with a disbelieving laugh.

"No, I just saw Nicky the Sparrow," I said.

"You've got to be wrong about that; Nicky doesn't leave Trenton. Nicky doesn't trust anyone to watch Harry's back but Nicky."

"Joe and Ranger saw him too; I'm sure it was him," I said.

"Let me make some calls," Connie said, "It'll give me something to do while I wait for my date to get here."

"Your date?" I asked.

"Yeah, Mary Lou has set me up with a friend of Lenny's. He's apparently not got a lot going on upstairs, but he's supposed to be a gift between the sheets," Connie said.

"Is it David Balluchack?" I asked.

"How do you know that?" Connie asked.

"Because she's set him up with a few of our mutual friends," I said, "They all say he lives up to his reputation." His reputation was that he was a nice guy, kind of ordinary looking, hung like a moose, and knew how to do things that would leave you smiling and walking funny for a week. The only problem with David was that his knowledge ran to sex and fantasy baseball. He made a lot of money with the fantasy baseball, but unless you understood Sabremetrics, having a conversation with him was nearly impossible.

"Good to know," Connie said, "Alright, give me twenty minutes to talk to some people. And congratulations."

I thanked her and hung up. I dialed my parent's house next and got Grandma. I gave her the news and asked her to break it gently to my mother.

"Your mother is at the supermarket right now. What I'll do is go upstairs and twist up all of your father's shirts, so they have nice wrinkles in them," Grandma said, "I'll even set up the ironing board."

"Hey, have you ever known Nicky the Sparrow to leave Trenton?" I asked.

"Sure, he does it every two weeks. He goes up to Princeton for a few days; he's got a house there that nobody is supposed to know about," Grandma said.

"How do you know about it?"

"Loretta Cranston has a daughter who married a professor at the University, and they had triplets a couple of years ago. Loretta has been going down every weekend to help out with the babies. She says that right up until this Thanksgiving, Nicky was a regular at the supermarket. She says he's got a real eye for produce," Grandma said.

"That could be really useful," I said, "Thanks."

I got off of the phone with Grandma; Joe was still deep in conversation with someone, so I went outside to see if Ranger was still occupied. He had his phone to his ear, and since I wasn't sure if I should be listening to any conversations he was having, I immediately began a retreat into the kitchen. Ranger caught my eye and motioned for me to stay. I was feeling a little pathetic, and I was almost due for one of my painkillers. I knew once I took them I'd be useless for a little while, and I still needed to work, so I did the next best thing. I walked over to Ranger and put my arms around his waist. He was still very tense, and it took him a beat to respond. When he did he held me a little tighter than usual, and that was perfectly all right with me.

When he finally disconnected, after saying maybe about three words, he tossed his phone onto the table and put his other arm around me.

"That was Chase; he's not happy. He's read the progress report, and he's drawing up the paperwork to transfer the account to Rangeman. In the meantime, he's going to have Roy escorted from the premises," Ranger said.

"Are you taking over immediately?" I asked.

"No. Billy is being put in as head of security for the interim. Chase likes him and has known Billy for a while. We're to tell him that we've been brought in to conduct the investigation, but Chase would like us to continue the audit without Billy's knowledge."

Ranger's phone rang, and I tried (okay not very hard) to give him his privacy, but he just tightened his grip around me. I guess it didn't really matter if I overheard Ranger's end of the conversation anyway because it mostly just consisted of "Yo," and the odd, "interesting," "Go ahead," and "No, go with plan B" punctuated by long silences. After a while though I started to feel a little weird just standing there, so I pulled away and indicated to him that I was just going for my drink.

As I was picking it up, my eyes landed on the file boxes for our case and the box of maps. I found the map we'd marked the crime scenes on and a pad of post-its. I rolled out the map on the table and used the empty beer bottles as weights to stop it from blowing away, and looked at the positions of the houses on the streets.

One minute wasn't a long time. It really wasn't, and Ranger said to be open to other possibilities, so here I was, trying to prove myself wrong.

I went through each file and found pictures of the exteriors of the houses and put a numbered post-it on each one of them and then numbered their positions on the maps. With the exception of the stamp collector's house, every house had their garage doors open, even after the break-in. This leant credibility to the 1-minute window theory, but four of the residences were positioned at the end of cul-de-sacs which meant that it would likely take longer than one minute for whichever vehicle they were using to be out of the line of sight of the garage. Unless of course the garage door was in shadow when they left and the person wore dark clothing for the break-in.

A breeze blew up the back of my dress, and I batted my skirt down and pulled out a chair and knelt on it, so I didn't accidentally flash anyone. While Ranger wouldn't mind, with my luck it would be Morelli who would be closer and get the best view. Also, given the sheer nature of the dress, I was waiting for one of them to realize; I wasn't exactly wearing much under it. Life was easier if you just wore jeans and a stretchy t-shirt every day.

Ranger wrapped up his call and came to the table, "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing too clearly, I keep going back and forth between this job and an overwhelming desire to Google."

"What do you want to Google?" Ranger asked.

"Right, I forgot, I'm engaged to Mr. Google," I said it, "I'm wondering what Florida state laws are regarding the waiting period between obtaining a marriage license and executing it."

"Afraid I'm going to change my mind?" he asked, with a slight smile on his lips.

"Nope, just impatient," I said.

"Three days," Ranger said and kissed my temple, "What are you working on?"

"I got the feeling you were talking about your Miami problem, is your mind here, or would you rather wait until I have a firm idea of what I'm thinking about before I come to you with my problem?"

"I can multitask," Ranger said.

"I'm trying to disprove my theory that they are exploiting the one-minute window. See, I was thinking that one minute wasn't a very long time, and it made me think of you," I said.

"Bad for my ego, Babe," Ranger said behind my ear. I turned my head so that I was looking at him and tried hard not to smile.

"I was more thinking along the lines of your mad skills when it comes to breaking and entering. If anything you did in bed could ever make me think of the one-minute window, it would be that thing you do with your tongue that can get me off in under a minute."

"I have a few more tricks up my sleeve that are as effective," he said, "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Not with Morelli ten feet away and an offshore audience who are under strict orders to peep," I said.

"If you can be quiet, I'll make sure nobody sees anything," It was absolutely a dare, and he was amused because he knew there was no way I'd take him up on it.

"Can we work now?" I asked and attempted to cock an eyebrow at him. I failed, but Ranger put a finger on my eyebrow and lifted it for me.

"Thanks for the assist."

"Do what I can, Babe."

I sighed, "This is my biggest problem: we've determined that it would be difficult to exploit the window without hiding in the garage first, but even then it might nearly be impossible."

"Why?"

"Because we didn't take into account how long it might take to be out of sight of the house," I said.

"That's not as big a problem as you might think," Ranger said.

"Why? I mean one glance back and you'd be caught."

"Not necessarily, the human mind sees what it wants to see, most of the time," Ranger said.

"I'm in pain and maybe a little drunk, you're going to have to elaborate on that one Batman," I said.

He thought about it for a moment, "Most people have the same routine, every single day. You get up, you get dressed, you make your coffee, get into the car and go to work. Now let's say that on your commute home, you always pass a bright orange and green minivan parked in the driveway. The van is always parked in the same spot and in your mind, it becomes almost a navigational landmark. One day you drive home, and that van is backing out of the driveway, you have plenty of time to brake, but you don't see the van until it's too late and you crash into the side of it. What is going to be your first thought?"

"How the hell did I not see a giant orange and green van?"

"The answer is that you're tired, and your brain is on autopilot. It recognized the orange and green van, but it doesn't register as a possible danger until it's too late because your brain defaults to the van's position to its usual place."

"So what you're saying is, if I were pulling out of the driveway and Hector started poking around in the garage, I probably wouldn't notice him, but if it were a giant clown carrying a bloody ax, I would."

"That's what I'm saying," Ranger said and grinned,"You just scared yourself didn't you? You're worried about scary, ax-wielding clowns hiding in the garage."

"Yup; don't know why I did that to myself," I said.

"How much of you wants me to check the garage for homicidal circus performers?"

"More than I would like to admit," I said.

Ranger chuckled silently and shook his head. I'm acutely aware of how ridiculous I am, but in fairness I have been chased by a pack of rage filled elves before, so the idea that Pennywise might be lurking in the garage isn't as farfetched as you might think.

"So if this person is someone who is usually welcome there, like a friend, they would just have to wait for the car to be out of the driveway."

"That's really going to depend on the friend," Ranger said.

"You make a good point; Lula is one of my closest friends, and she might as well be wearing flashing lights with arrows pointing to her that say, 'Danger!'" I said.

Ranger grinned again, "It works the other way too, it doesn't have to be danger that alerts you, simply anything extraordinary."

"So we're looking for mostly benign people who are often overlooked; like cleaning staff, or someone with access to a maintenance uniform," I said. He nodded.

"I thought someone with dark clothes might take advantage of the way shadows fall on the door, but in this neighborhood dark clothes would stand out more than Lula," I said.

"There is a simpler solution," Ranger said.

"What's that?"

"They might not activate their security systems every time they leave the house," Ranger said.

I went through the file boxes and found the records Ranger printed off during our heist and nearly went cross-eyed. There was a lot of data.

"Hector has access to the database; we'll get the computer to sort it out. I only printed that off to prove I could," Ranger said.

"You know who I'm thinking should be on our suspect list?"

"Roy?"

"Roy. He was the one who provided Chase with the alibis for his staff and presumably himself. Chase isn't likely to question him since he's been here from the beginning and when I was in the office yesterday, I saw Morelli's name on the Proscribed list. So how did he get in with just a driver's license? I'm willing to bet Roy had something to do with that."

"I was going to ask Morelli how he got onto the premises. Did he say _how_ he knew we were?"

"Didn't think to ask him that, but I know he used charm to get onto the boardwalk."

"Of that I have no doubt," Ranger said dryly, "Roy is the only one with the clearance to add or remove someone from the Proscribed database."

"But Morelli could have used his badge," I said.

"He supposed to need a court order. I'm going to have to speak to Billy about our list. Morelli is more pain in the ass than real threat, but if Roy's put everyone on our Proscribed list onto the Wave Through list, we're going to have to step up Rangeman's presence, and you're going to move with a Bodyguard."

"That'll be fun," I said.

"Just until we can be certain no one else was waved in. Would you prefer Hal or Cal while I'm out?" he asked.

"Either one; though Cal's flaming skull tattoo isn't going to win him any friends here," I said.

"Hal it is," Ranger said, "I also want to check out the area surrounding the crime scenes; we know our UNSUB is watching the victims, I want to see if I can determine from where."

"It's been weeks; odds are if there was anything to find it's gone now," I said.

"I know, but it's worth a look anyway," Ranger said, "I'm not putting much stock in those reports given Roy's somewhat questionable conduct."

"The big question there is, if he put everyone from our Naughty List onto our Nice List, did he do it because he was worried about losing his job, or did he do it because he was afraid of getting caught doing something he shouldn't?"

"Or was there no malicious intent and it was an honest mistake?" Ranger said with a humorless smile.

"Yeah, and maybe my mother isn't three sheets to the wind and ironing my father's shirts right now, but I don't think it's likely."

"You told your mother about us?" Ranger asked. It occurred to me that we weren't following our usual conversational style. Ranger was far more ordered than this, and we were kind of all over the place. He probably figured I wouldn't be able to focus at the moment, so he was just going where my brain was taking us.

"I told my grandmother," I said, "I'm surprised she hasn't called... oh wait I forgot! My cell has been randomly blocking people; I don't think it made the complete recovery we thought it did."

"Give it to Hector," Ranger said.

All of the talking was starting to make my whole head throb; I needed more drugs and a nap. Stupid Joe. As if the thought conjured him, Morelli came out onto the patio.

He eyed the map and the pictures on the table, "Planning a heist?"

"That was last night," I said

"Usually, I can tell when you're joking; right now I honestly can't, and I'm afraid you might be telling the truth," Morelli said, "I'm going to blame the drugs for my inability to differentiate and go with 'joke' on this one."

"That's what I would do," I said.

"Jesus Stephanie..."

"How did you know we were on the boardwalk?" I asked, changing the subject before he could add to my headache.

"I had your address," Morelli said, "When I came by here earlier, Jazzercise Barbie told me she saw you arguing and thought it was probably better if I came back tomorrow."

"Nadia was here?" I said.

"Something about leaving you a note in the door," Joe said, "I wasn't really paying that much attention."

"What did you say your reason for coming was?" I asked.

"I said I had information about a case you were working," Joe said, "I'm not an idiot; I wasn't about to risk putting you in jeopardy by blowing your cover."

I went to the front door and opened it; a Barbie pink envelope dropped to the front step, and I picked it up. The stock was heavy, undoubtedly expensive and had Nadia's return address stamped in the top left-hand corner in a glossy pink pearl ink. She'd addressed the letter to 'Stephie.'

I have a lot of nicknames. I think people think Stephanie is too formal for me; most people only use it when they are angry or emphasizing a point. Most of the nicknames just rolled off my back, some I got used to with time and then there was 'Babe' which had pretty much become a conversational art form by this point. All of that information is critical in understanding that when I say I hate being called Stephie, I don't mean it's a generalized hate, like a loathing of Mondays, but that it actually makes my skin crawl. You can't say 'Stephie' without immediately wanting to follow it with 'Weffie', and you can't say Stephie-Weffie without then immediately saying the next few syllables in baby talk. It gets worse with drunkenness and if it happens during sex, well then it's just embarrassing for both parties, and it's an effective mood killer.

I brought the letter back to the dining room and opened it. I tossed the envelope onto the table and heard Joe snicker and then stifle a groan of pain. "Ranger, you can stop smiling too," I said.

"At least she didn't spell it S-T-E-F-F-Y-E," Ranger said.

"There's that," I said. The paper, like the envelope, was high quality, only it was pristine white. When I unfolded the letter, I was confronted by a stylized metallic hot pink 'N' with weird curly things surrounding it. The paper was bordered in the same metallic pink and she'd written her note in a sparkly pink ink. "At what point does this much pink go from childish to eccentric?"

"Babe," Ranger said.

The letter was informing me that due to some hiccup that DeeDee hadn't been totally clear about, the party was moving to Nadia's house and was no longer a Barbecue but a sushi buffet and pool party.

"I forgot about the party," I groaned and handed the letter to Ranger, "Now I want to go even less than I did before."

"You aren't going. In half an hour you're taking a painkiller and then you are going to pass out," Ranger said. He looked at Morelli, "Steph has maybe fifteen minutes left before her brain isn't going to be good for anything beyond binge-watching reality television. What did you learn?"

"He would know," I said, "He probably had someone work out an exact formula looking at adrenaline expenditure, levels of stress, and pain as a result of said stress. He probably factors in alcohol consumption too."

"Ten minutes," Ranger amended and Joe nodded his agreement.

"I spoke to my contacts in organized crime," Joe said, "Nobody knows why Nicky is out of town. Terri said she'd know if there was a hit; Harry and Vito have been doing a lot of work together lately, and she swears she would have heard something. Since I trust her about as far as I can throw her, I've checked in with someone who is deep under cover; he's got nothing. I gather Connie didn't have anything?"

"She didn't just yet, she's making phone calls, but my grandmother might have something. She says that Nicky has a house in Princeton," I said, "Do either of you know anything about that?"

"It isn't in any information we have," Joe said. He looked at Ranger.

"It's not in ours either," Ranger said, "How reliable is this information?"

"Grandma said that Loretta from the beauty parlor sees him once every couple of weeks in the supermarket or something. At least he did until Thanksgiving; she hasn't seen him since then," I said.

"I wonder if the feds have ever considered using Edna as an intelligence asset?" Morelli said.

"They do have a file," Ranger said.

"I don't think that's a joke," I said.

"Our drugs are wearing off," Morelli said, "It's throwing everything off."

Ranger walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. He wrapped the peas in a tea towel and brought them out to me. He gently positioned it on my face and put my hand over it to keep it in place. It took the edge off a bit; Morelli he let suffer.

"I don't think Nicky is here because of our case; it's not exactly the mobs style," I said.

"I agree, but I don't like the coincidence of him showing up here while we are here. Especially since we know the Feds are keeping an eye on Vinnie right now," Ranger said.

"I'm going to kill Eddie," Morelli said.

"He's family; he was looking out for me," I said. I looked at Ranger, "Now what do we do?"

"Now we wait for Connie," Ranger said.

"I'm going to need you to keep me in the loop on this," Joe said, "The FBI and TPD are more than a little interested in his presence here. They are hoping that he and Harry have had a falling out, and if that's the case, they want me to bring him in so they can turn him."

"I think the chances of Nicky and Harry falling out without everybody knowing about it, are about as likely as Stephanie becoming a vegetarian," Ranger said.

"No fucking way that's happening," Joe said. He had that right.

"We'll have to take Joe off of our proscribed list," I said to Ranger. He didn't look especially pleased by the idea, but he agreed.

"Where are you staying?" Ranger asked.

"I hadn't really thought that far," Morelli said. For a terrible moment, I thought Ranger was going to offer to let him stay here. He picked his phone up off of the table and dialed.

"I need a room and I'm going to need you to give one of my men access to install a secure phone line," Ranger said, waited for a beat and hung up.

"You're staying at the resort two miles from here," Ranger said, "It's pricey, but it's all inclusive and it's as close as you're going to get to staying in the community, so your bosses will have to deal with it."

"Thanks. I'm going to need access to all of the public areas and less conspicuous wheels."

"I'll get you set up tomorrow," Ranger said with a nod.

Ranger's cell rang, and he looked at the readout, "It's for you."

"Really?" I said as he handed me the phone.

"It's Connie."

I answered "Hello?"

"Ranger, you're voice has changed," Connie said.

"He gave me his phone," I said.

"I was looking for you anyway; your cell isn't working." she said.

"What's up?"

"So here's what I can get from my contacts, Nicky has a daughter that nobody knew about until last year except Nicky and Mrs. The Sparrow. She's a senior at FSU and doesn't know that daddy is connected."

"Grandma says they have a house in Princeton?"

"Yup," Connie said, "Doesn't show up in anything because the house is Mortgaged in one of her aunt's names."

"What's the name of the Aunt?"

"Gloria Bianchi," Connie said. I scribbled the name down on one of the post-its, "The wife's name is Andreana Moretti."

That was Nicky's last name; I could never remember it. I wrote it down too and handed both names to Ranger. He took them his laptop and ran a search on both of them.

"What else did you get?"

"A story you ain't never going to believe, but I got it from three different sources. So a few years back his daughter moves to Florida, but she gets real homesick right, she's a real momma's girl. So Mrs. The Sparrow gets this membership to this club, and so her baby girl doesn't have to miss her mother too much, Andreana spends one week a month in Florida staying at the hotel. They go shopping, catch each other up on everything, the usual female bonding shit. Then last June, Andreana gets what she thinks is a cold but turns out to be aggressive lung cancer, and she dies by the end of July. The kid (didn't get her name) decides her mother would have wanted her to finish school, so she decides to go back to Florida. She's been having a rough year and her grades are slipping. Nicky, being the good father he is, has decided he needs to pay her a visit because she's obviously missing her momma more than she's letting on."

"Seriously? That's kind of sweet." I said, "Where did you get that from?"

"Mostly Lucile," Connie said, "I guess they were talking about the daughter at dinner one night because Nicky was real worried about her. Harry told him he had to go take care of her, and that he should take as much time as he needs."

"Well that solves that mystery then," I said.

"Not so fast because here's the kicker, he was supposed to be going down for Easter and then a few days ago he suddenly changed his flight and reservations and decided he needed to go down at precisely the same time you left."

"Uh oh."

"So Vinnie called Harry and asked him if the reason for Nicky's sudden departure had anything to do with either of you because he'd pull you back if he had to. Harry told him not to get his panties in a bunch; it's just a coincidence. Besides, he likes you and Ranger. I doubt either of them realize you're staying at the same resort."

"You're sure?"

"I double checked with my family. Both organizations say you and Ranger are hands off. Daddy would tell me if you were in danger." Connie said, "Oh speaking of danger, I should warn you, I think Lula has short sheeted your bed, and she may have saran wrapped your toilet."

"Connie, did you help her? Because that sounds like something you would do," I said.

"It's possible I suggested it while we were at the bar last night," She said, "And I might have given her your key, but I can't actually remember if I did."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and hung up. "Lula is pissed and taking advice from Connie."

"I'll have Tank clear your apartment before you get home," Ranger said. He took the phone from me and put it into his pocket. I filled them in on everything Connie had given me.

"If it's true, we'll know soon enough," Joe said, he eyed the file boxes on the table, their labels were visible, "What are you doing here?"

"Security audit," Ranger said, "I've signed a confidentiality agreement, I can't tell you more. Neither can Stephanie unless compelled by court order. If this turns out to involve Nicky, we'll read you in."

"Fair enough," Joe said. Ranger's phone rang again, he looked at the readout and went into the den.

"How many irons does he have in the fire, exactly?" Joe asked.

"I don't know," I said, "It's Ranger, one minute he's here and the next, he's not."

"Are you sure you can handle that?" Joe asked.

"He wouldn't be Ranger if he didn't have his hero complex," I said.

Ranger came back out of the office, "I need a minute with Stephanie," Ranger said, and Joe went into the house.

"You're leaving," I said.

"I have to go to Miami for a couple of hours; I'll be back tonight," Ranger said, "Hal is going to take Morelli to his hotel, and then he's going to come back here to keep an eye on you. I want you to set the Rangeman alarm before you go to bed."

"How scared should I be?" I asked.

"You shouldn't be," Ranger said, "Nicky isn't here to whack us, at most he's here to keep an eye on us. As for the other thing, I'll get Billy to check to make sure nobody else was waved through, and then I'll have some men sweep the area. Make sure you don't take your watch off and don't leave the house until I get back. If you need anything, call me, and I'll get Hector to get it for you." His phone chirped in his pocket, and he pulled it out again. He checked the readout again, "That's going to be a problem. I might be longer than I thought, my phone will be on all night," he said and did a quick weapons check.

"Before you go, I need to ask you a very important question, about this wedding thing," I said.

"What's that?" he asked as he holstered his weapons.

"Are you doing anything Thursday?" I asked.

"I'll find a priest."


	11. Chapter 11

_**AN: So I don't know what's up with fanfiction, but something is. I am getting your reviews in my email but they aren't showing up on the website and I can't reply to any of them. Thank you so much for the love and I hope you continue to like the story!**_

Hal showed up a few minutes after Ranger rolled out while I was debating the merits of a second Margarita. Since I felt bad because I couldn't share a drink with Hal and drinking alone probably meant I had a problem, I chose a pint of Half-Baked ice cream instead. I served myself up a bunch and dumped a ton of chocolate sauce on it and went to the living room where I thought I'd take another stab at the crime scene reports, and had them laid out on the coffee table. Ranger was right, as usual, because I made it about two bites into the ice cream and three minutes into reading the first report when I realized that I wasn't actually paying attention to the words. I turned on a Storage Wars marathon, waited until I could pop my pain killer and fell asleep on the sofa to the sounds of Dave Hester "yuuup"-ing his way into a locker with a dirt bike in it.

I ended up having a dream where I was in Sacremento trying on wedding dresses that Connie dug out of the storage room at the Bonds Office while Lula and Vinnie argued over whether or not I should be wearing pink boxing gloves or if I should go with blue ones as my something blue. I woke up with a start just as Connie declared that my wedding makeup should be more along the lines of Jem and Holograms than my usual more understated look.

When I woke up, I flailed and knocked the edge of the folder off of the coffee table with the back of my hand, sending the contents flying. I didn't even attempt to deal with it because when I flipped the file, I very nearly knocked the goopy chocolate remains of my ice cream off of the table with it. The last thing I wanted to deal with was chocolate spatter all over our pristine white suede couch.

I managed just to spill it all over my arm and was using the top of my thigh to catch the drips, contemplating how I was going to move from that position, when Hal arrived with a roll of paper towels. Together we cleaned up the spill before any damage was done. While Hal took the garbage to the kitchen, I began picking up the crime scene pictures that had scattered everywhere. The pictures were from the house with the rearranged dishes and I got my first look of the dishes in question when I picked up a close up of the plates. "Huh," I sat back on the floor and crossed my legs as picked up another picture, this one of a tea cup.

These houses were vacation homes; yes they were upscale but upscale or not, vacation houses were not home to fancy dinnerware. Either you had what we had here; sturdy plain white plates and mugs or you went for brightly hued dishes, maybe even indulged your kitschy side and bought stuff with starfish or flip flops on them.

The dishes in the crime scene photos were anything but what you'd usually find in a beach house. What I was looking at was ornate, hand painted, china with gold trim. Each dinner plate was divided into four sections with a different scene of what seemed to be life in 18th century France, depicted in each quadrant. In the center of the plate was a Peacock, who's wings and tail feathers created the dividing lines between the sections. The detail was stunning, and the plates were clearly worth a fortune. This was the sort of dinnerware you would keep safely locked in the china cabinet and would only bring out if the President or the Queen were visiting for dinner, and even then you'd think twice about it.

I looked at the inventory sheet and learned that there were twenty place settings, each plate was slightly different; no two plates depicted the same scenes. Unfortunately, there weren't photographs of each place setting. There were pictures of the serving dishes, and they were just as elaborately decorated. I rifled through the pictures I had of each until I found one of the back of the dinner plate, showing the makers mark of R.D.

I went into the den to retrieve my laptop and brought it back to the living room and sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, using it as a desk. The cold marble was not exactly comfortable, so I dragged one of the sofa cushions down and sat on it while I tried to see if I could figure out who the maker of the dishes was. An while later I had my answers about the dinnerware, and I knew why it was being hidden in a Florida vacation house and why its owners, the Pearsons, would be ashamed of it.

The dishes were painted by an artist by the name of Rene Doucet in 1770 as a wedding gift for Marie Antoinette. In 1780, she, in turn, gave the dishes to a young woman she had been close to in Austria. After the French revolution, her husband ordered her to get rid of the dishes, so she gave them, also as a wedding gift, to a young Jewish girl named Rachel Hirschmann. The dishes were passed down through the Hirschmann family and remained remarkably well preserved until Hitler came to power. They were then given as gifts to the Pfau family as a reward for their loyalty to the Nazi party. What they did to earn that particular reward was unclear, but given that, at the time, the dishes were valued at $100,000 US, it had to have been something big. Hitler chose that prize in particular not only because of its value, but because the last name Pfau, is german for 'peacock.'

After Pearl Harbor, the Pfau family, seeing that it was now only a matter of time before Germany lost the war, decided to flee Germany, taking with them a fortune in art and various other treasures. From there they went to Switzerland where they changed their name from Pfau to Seebrücke and seemed to disappear off of the map. There was some speculation that the family moved to the US sometime around 1950 because it was then that some of the larger works of art that were rumored to be in their collections began appearing for sale at private auctions.

On a hunch I popped their new last name into the translator and came up with 'pier. So let's say they decide to leave Switzerland, maybe the Nuremberg trials were making them nervous, and they decide to cross the ocean, hoping to hide amongst a sea of immigrants. They wouldn't want a German sounding name, so they'd want to lose Seebrücke, but since it means pier, maybe they decided to go with Pearson.

Grasping at that exceptionally loose straw, I decided to look into the Pearson family history, and I was so close I scared myself. Phillip Pierson immigrated from Canada in 1960. An official misspelled his name on his immigration paperwork, and he became Pearson. Phillip Pearson invested heavily in steel and oil and took a decent fortune and went from well off to wealthy, his son Bertram took that money and used it to start an early tech company that manufactured microchips that they sold to IBM and took their family from well off to stinking rich.

I looked into all of the paintings sold at auction in 1950, that were said to have belonged to the Pfau family and added up their sale value. It was very close to what Phillip Pierson claimed was what his father left him in an estate divided among his four siblings.

Not certain what to do with this wealth of information, I scribbled what I learned down on a notepad, gathered everything up and shoved it back into the file. I opened the next folder, not thinking for a minute that I would strike gold twice.

Shelly Masterson went out with her kids and came home to find all of her credit card statements spread out on the dresser. The statements themselves didn't seem too bad; they were paid off each month in their entirety, so she wasn't spending beyond her means. What she was buying didn't seem too crazy either; she had a bedroom closet full of shoes that each cost more than most of the cars I'd owned recently, but that seemed the norm for the area.

I thought the clue might be in her spending patterns, so I sorted the statements into piles VISA, MasterCard, American Express, and Discover. Then I picked up the American Express stack and went to put it in order by date, only to discover they were all for the same month. That's when I saw that the account numbers were different. It was the same for each pile. I was looking at one month's worth of statements for 16 separate credit cards. "What the hell?" I said and began sorting through the cards. In order to have spent the money she spent in that single month, she would have had to have bought out every major high-end shoe designer's collection in both bags and shoes, twice in one month. There was definitely something going on there.

I set it aside and went to the next file, another seemingly innocuous prank. Karen Frankish left her house to pick her husband up from the airport. Before she left her house, she changed the sheets on her bed, when she came home twenty minutes later, the dirty sheets she put in the washer had been swapped out for her curtains, and her sheets were hanging on the curtain rods of the bedroom.

I was considering the rather obvious implications of this prank when Ranger walked in the door.

"I'm surprised you're awake," He said and stopped to kiss me on top of the head.

"I'm onto something," I said.

"How's the pain?" he asked.

"It sucks monkey balls, but I'm dealing with it because I've found something!" I repeated.

"Have you written it all down?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Is someone going to die if I don't hear it this second?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Then I'm honestly too tired to listen right now; take a pill and we'll go to bed, and you can tell me about it in the morning," he said. I looked at him; he did look tired, and it was a little after 1 AM, and my face was pissing me off. All through my searching Hal had been periodically swapping out my bag of peas, and I'd been putting them on my cheek until my face went numb and then tossing them on the table and forgetting about them until Hal, well trained minion that he was, dropped a fresh bag next to me.

I took a pill as suggested and followed Ranger to the bedroom where he ditched his clothes and headed straight for the shower. I opened my dresser to find pajamas and decided against them. Instead, I snagged Ranger's t-shirt from the laundry basket, looked it over for signs of blood, tissue, brain matter and other bodily fluids beyond Ranger sweat, didn't find any, but just to double check I yelled, "Did anything gross happen while you were out?"

"I sat in a truck watching a house," Ranger said, "Why?"

"No reason," I said and traded my dress for his t-shirt and got into bed. I was pretty sure that I was too wired to sleep after everything I'd just found. Again I was totally wrong, because I remember Ranger slipping into bed with me, and sliding his hand up, under the t-shirt, resting his palm flat against my belly. He said, "Nice pajamas," and the next thing I knew I was waking up from a dream where I was being repeatedly hit in the face by my niece Angie wielding her Fisherprice hammer.

The sun had been up for a while when I realized the hammer wasn't real, but the throbbing pain was. I sat up, really, really hating Morelli.

"I'm all for any revenge you have in mind," Ranger said, "But as you pointed out, it was an accident."

"No, it was intentional; he just missed the person he was aiming for and got me instead," I grumbled. Ranger was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a glass of water and a couple of pills.

"Nuh-uh, I don't like those, they put me in a coma and give me weird dreams."

"This, I'm afraid, is only extra strength Tylenol. The doctor doesn't want you taking the other pills unless you feel you need them. You can take Ibuprofen in a couple of hours if the Tylenol isn't cutting it." Ranger said. I took the Tylenol and got out of bed.

Waiting for me in the kitchen was a mega super gigundo large Iced Coffee and bowl of vanilla frozen yogurt with fruit on it. "I love you," I said to Ranger.

"I've had your injury before," He said, "Heat hurts."

"You've been up for a while," I said.

"Since about seven," Ranger said. I looked at the clock; it was 8:45.

Ranger had moved my mess from the night before to the dining room table and organized it to some degree. He wasn't really a sit on the floor kind of guy, so after I finished my breakfast, still only dressed in Ranger's shirt and a pair of underwear I don't remember putting on, I sat down at the table and told Ranger about the plates.

"So the foundation of the Pearson fortune is money obtained through the illegal auction of stolen Nazi art and then laundered through the stock market," Ranger said, "That would be something you wouldn't want to get out."

"It looks that way," I said, "Now I'm just trying to figure out why they kept it. I mean, why not fence it?"

"Back then, it was public knowledge that the Pfau family had the dinnerware, if they attempted to sell it, their identities would have been revealed. It's possible nobody would recognize the dinnerware now, but it's not a risk you'd take lightly. Was there a warrant for the arrest of the Pfau family back in 45?"

"No idea; the articles I read didn't say," I said.

"I have some contacts at Interpol; they might know. Not that it matters now; Bertram's father is long dead, and Bertram wasn't alive during the war, but it's possible the recovery of those dishes and the return of them to their rightful owners might be something that can be negotiated," Ranger said, "What else have you got?"

"Well I think Shelly Masterson is hiding money from her husband; why I have no idea, and Karen Frankish is probably having an affair. Combine these little tidbits with the Coopers' interest in a little kink, and I think it's pretty clear that our bad guy is all about exposing dirty little secrets," I said.

"Walk me through Masterson and Frankish," Ranger said.

"Well, the affair is just the first thing that springs to mind with the airing of the dirty sheets. Masterson is a bit different, and I need to delve a bit deeper there, but I thought you might be faster at it," I said. So I explained to him about the credit cards.

"Let's say she bought herself every pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes from the current collection; it would work out to about $20,000. Add his collaborations and you're looking at another $20,000 give or take, plus $40,000 for bags and another $20,000 for men's shoes. You're looking at roughly $100,000 that it would be possible to spend in Manolo Blahnik in one season. She's tripled that last month alone. Now yes, you can get custom shoes done, and they are going to cost more, but that would show up as a single transaction and according to the internet, that will usually only run you $4,000ish dollars."

"I like that you did the math on that," Ranger said.

"I thought you might," I said, "Still, if we use that number as a benchmark and say she bought three times everything, from Manolo Blahnik, Jimmy Choo and Christian Louboutin, kept one set for herself of each, we're looking at, about $600,000 that she's hiding somewhere."

Ranger powered up his computer and got access to her credit card statements for the last five years. Four years ago, once a season, she went on a massive shopping spree and bought a fucking fortune in shoes. Her Credit Cards were paid off promptly through the internet as a direct transfer from her husband's account, shortly after the bills were issued.

A little digging later turned up a separate bank account, containing slightly over nine million dollars, in Shelly's maiden name. The transactions on the account were for a boarding school, a New York apartment, a Jag and regular payments into a Trust fund in the name of Lana Davis. Ranger pulled up the driver's license photos of both Lana and Shelly, and there was no question that Lana was Shelly's daughter, but judging from their ages, Lana was born when Shelly was fifteen. Lana had been adopted and then five years ago, her adoptive parents were killed in a plane crash, and Lana decided to search for her birth mother. Clearly she found her.

"You're right about the secrets," Ranger said, "I'm going to get some people to look into the stamp collection, specifically the red whatever stamp. It's possible there could be an issue either with its provenance or its authenticity."

"It's been on display in a museum for months; you'd think they would have checked that," I said.

"There has to be a reason they chose to draw attention to that particular stamp," Ranger said.

"If they are exposing secrets, do you think there's a blackmail component we haven't considered? Like maybe they didn't make a payment, so he threatened to expose the secret."

Ranger looked into the financial histories of each of the victims; there were no immediate, signs of blackmail, "I have a forensic accountant who will comb through their records. If it's blackmail, we'll know how much it's for and begin checking other resident's account histories for evidence."

"Don't we need a warrant for that?" I asked.

Ranger lifted an eyebrow, "We're not the police; we aren't trying to build a case, just find the culprit. What Chase decides to do after we have that information is entirely up to him." That was fair I guess. "In the meantime, I need you to do your thing and get as much local gossip as you can. There might be a link beyond the secrets that we aren't seeing because we don't have enough data and I have a strong suspicion there are more victims who haven't come forward."

"How do you figure?"

"Nazi heirlooms are embarrassing but won't ruin the Pearsons. Kink is trendy right now, so at the most the Coopers will be the victims of a few envious glances wherever they go, and while it could cause a blip in the marriage, I'd be damned surprised if Masterson didn't know what his wife was up to and is letting her keep her secret. With the exception of Karen Frankish, these secrets would cause a minor scandal, but in reality, they aren't going to cause a major upheaval in their lives, so they don't really have anything to lose by going to the police. Others might not be so lucky."

"And Karen wouldn't have been able to avoid calling Security for help because her husband was with her when she got home," I said.

"You already have an in with their group of friends through Nadia, see if you can't subtly get information out of her, to find out who else has been affected," Ranger said.

"Are you around today or are you going back to Miami?" I asked.

"I won't know for a little while yet. Do you need something?" he asked.

"If you want me to gather gossip, I should go to the hotel pool; apparently that's where everybody hangs out during the week," I said, "I'll hang out there today if it's not a problem?"

"It shouldn't be. I spoke to Billy last night, Morelli and Leitrim are the only two he moved to the Wave Through List. He was smart enough to leave anyone exceptionally dangerous on the Proscribed list. Though I am considering pressing charges over Leitrim; you have an active restraining order against him."

Leitrim was my current stalker. We don't know why he's into me, but he's broken into my apartment a few times and stolen my peanut butter. He hasn't threatened me; mostly he was just weird, but he did do something stupid in the name of his love for me, and Morelli and Ranger were both concerned about escalation, so we got the restraining order. Leitrim respected the injunction and kept his distance, but he was usually hanging around not very far away.

"I've had a man on him since Valentine's Day; he's currently in the drunk tank, at TPD," Ranger said.

"So I don't have to travel around with Hal?" I said.

"He doesn't have to be a visible presence, but I'm going to keep him close by," Ranger said.

"I wouldn't mind it if you came by the pool with me anyway so that I can use you as bait," I said, teasing him.

"If I have time I'll take you to lunch, will that work?" Ranger asked.

"Perfect," I said. I got up from the table and went upstairs to prepare for my day. I figured I'd work on the Jankowitz case and my tan, by the pool until lunch time. If I didn't see anyone I knew, I'd try again after lunch tomorrow. It was a dirty job; but somebody had to do it.

I put on one of my new black bikinis and pulled my new 'cover-up' on over top of it. I snagged my flip flops, and a big assed hat and Ranger's aviators and went into the bathroom to see how bad the bruising was.

It was ugly, but there wasn't much swelling, probably thanks to Ranger and Hal's insistence on the frozen peas last night. I dabbed on some Arnica Cream like it was makeup primer, and then began the process of trying to make the bruise disappear. I used a brush to gently apply yellow under eye cream to dull the purple color of the bruise and then added concealer, blended that in with a sponge and then did the foundation thing. It didn't get rid of it all together, but at least with the shade of my hat, and my sunglasses, it wasn't readily apparent that I had been punched in the face. That done I rooted around in my closet for something to use as a beach bag, found a big tropical print canvas tote, and shoved my sunblock, cell phone and wallet into it. My laptop, notepad, and files I would shove into it when I got downstairs.

I was ready to go and figured I'd let Ranger know. I found him swimming laps in our pool and was more than a little distracted by the fact that he was doing this el fresco. I watched him for probably a lot longer than I thought when he finished his laps and climbed out of the pool.

"Did you do that to taunt me?" I asked as he wrapped his towel around his hips.

"Nope missed my run this morning, and I was feeling restless," Ranger said.

"You forgot your bathing suit," I said.

"Didn't think you'd mind," he said, with a grin. He gave me a once over, "Nice."

"I was assured it was necessary for going to the pool," I said and twirled so he could see just how high the leg slits went.

"Now I'm wondering if maybe I do want Hal to be a visible presence," he teased.

"I have a mystery I think you can help me with," I said.

"What's that?" He grabbed my hip and pulled me closer. I put my hands flat against his chest and looked up at him.

"Why was I wearing underwear this morning? I know I wasn't when I got into bed," I said. His grin turned into a full smile.

"You were dead to the world and I like my women interactive," he said.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Your bare ass kept rubbing up against me, it was making it difficult to sleep."

"So the swimming was really just payback," I said.

"Maybe," Ranger said.

"I'm going now," I said. He kissed me goodbye and then I was off to the pool.

When I got there, the place was a zoo; if that is what a quiet morning looked like, then I didn't ever want to know what it looked like on the weekends. It took me ten minutes of circling the parking lot to find a space, then another fifteen waiting for a pool chair to be free. I didn't immediately see anyone I recognized, so I settled in with my laptop, plugged in some headphones, chose a playlist at random and got to work on the Jankowitz case.

With nowhere else to look for a lead, I decided to go with the foodie angle. I went back to his Instagram and made a list of all of the different restaurants he visited and which menu items he'd sampled. Not knowing what else to do with that information, besides flag a waiter and ask for a dessert menu and an orange juice, I turned to my trusty neighborhood search engine and started entering restaurants and their menu items.

I made it halfway through the list when I realized the top hit for each item were all different articles by a food critic called "The Happy Gourmet" So I googled her. The Happy Gourmet's claim to fame was that she never gave a restaurant a bad review. If she didn't like the food or the service, she simply didn't write them up. She believed that there were enough negative critics out there telling you, in the most pretentious way possible, why you shouldn't like a place. She preferred to focus on what she loved about food. Her reviews were often funny, made the food seem mouthwatering, and she encouraged people to eat outside of their comfort zone. She had an enormous blog following, and an article that was published about two years ago, said a good review from her, saw a doubling in sales immediately following the publication of her column.

I went back to the Instagram and checked to see just how avid a follower Jankowitz was. I mean he went everywhere she suggested; maybe we could nab him after her next review. I took the dates of the ten most recent posts and compared them to the column. "No fucking way," I said out loud. His pictures were posted exactly a week before the column, either he was the Happy Gourmet or he was dating her.

My next stop was her blog, to see if she maybe previewed he column on there. Nope. Most of it was just a re-hash of her column with a bit more of her personal life added in. Any entries that coincided with articles were published the same day the article was released. Almost everything else had to do with her obsession. She had a serious chocolate fetish, and she wasn't into the stuff you can buy at the mall when you go to Godiva; no she wanted the expensive exotic chocolates. She was on a quest to find the world's best chocolate, and she encouraged her readers to send her samples from their travels. About a year ago she hit paydirt. There was a massive column in some food magazine about a type of chocolate that came from a plant that was thought to be all but extinct. It was believed that there were something like only four or five of these plants left in the world. Then in a miracle of natural discovery, a couple of hikers discovered the plant thriving in the high altitudes of South America. She said that she and a couple of partners had just purchased a tract of land and several of the plants in an attempt to proliferate the species and produce the chocolate she'd spent her life looking for. The plants and land were both located in the mountains of, you guessed it, Peru.

"No. Fucking. Way." I said to myself again, "No. Fucking. Way."

I needed to learn more about the Happy Gourmet, and I needed Rangeman's servers to do it, but I was pretty sure I just found Jankowitz. Fuck gathering gossip; this was huge. I could give this information to Ranger, and he could contact who he knows in the super secret spy world, and they could look, and I couldn't believe my luck. I just couldn't. I was so excited I started putting my stuff away, I was going back to the house as soon as I could. I was about to wave and settle my bill when a shadow fell across my chair and the voice of Nicky the Sparrow penetrated my excitement and deflated it like a balloon.

"You know, every time I see you at the office I wonder how it is that someone as gorgeous as you are could be related to a rodent like Vinnie," Nicky said.

"Mostly we all think that Vinnie comes from a branch of the family tree that is rotting and we hope will fall off.' I said, trying to brazen it out; hoping that Nicky wasn't there to threaten me. I hate getting threatened.

"Harry has considered hiring a gardener to prune that particular branch on many occasions, but Lucile cries every time he threatens it."

"I'd appreciate it if he didn't; I hate looking for work," I said.

"Speaking of work, imagine my surprise yesterday when I saw you, Ranger and your cop boyfriend hanging out together in this neighborhood. Now this place isn't exactly well populated, and I got to wondering what you were doing here. So I called Harry, and he was less than happy that Vinnie's top bounty hunters were both in Florida. He too wants to know what you are doing here."

Nicky gave my nearest neighbor a look, and she gathered her things as quickly as she could and skittered away. He sat down on the deck chair and signaled the waiter. Our waiter practically sprinted over us and I was half expecting him to hurdle the deck chairs to get to us faster. Nicky ordered us each a drink called a Miami Vice, and got comfortable.

Nicky looked like he had stepped out of central casting for the God Father and decided he needed to work on his tan. He had dark hair, narrow Mediterranean features, a decent amount of chest hair and he was wearing a pair of bright pink and yellow floral Hawaiian board shorts. He was somewhat good looking in an Andy Garcia kind of way, but even dressed the way he was, he was damned scary.

"You'll like this drink; it's a bit fruity, but it's great for pool sitting. It's a mixture of a Rum Runner and Pena Colada," he said.

He reached into my bag and pulled out my laptop. He opened it and held it out for me to put in my password and I wasn't exactly going to say 'no' to him. I did as asked, and my web browser popped up onto the screen with the tabs for Instagram and The Happy Gourmet's blog open.

"Now this here, this don't look like work, and Vinnie can't exactly afford for you to be takin' a vacation," Nicky said.

Now I weighed my options, and since he was making me feel like a kid who didn't do her homework, I did what I did in high school when I ran into this situation. I served up a supersized portion of bullshit, garnished with a sprinkling of the truth.

"Actually, Vinnie gave me a high bond skip to go after, worth a Million bucks and I got a lead that he was going to be in Florida. Ranger was on his way to Florida too, he was borrowing a friend's plane and said I could hitch a ride with him, and he said I could use Rangeman resources to find my skip if I needed to. Only the lead turned out to be a dud, and it looks like my skip is in Peru. So now I'm trying to narrow down where he is in Peru. Ranger said if I could find him, he'd go with me and help me bring him back. He's not a fan of the idea of me traipsing around Cartel territory without backup. So I'm waiting for him to finish up whatever business he's doing here, and if I can get a lead, he'll take me to Peru."

"What's this got to do with a food blog?"

"Turns out this guy has a weakness for chocolate, and it turns out that the rarest chocolate in the world is in Peru," I said.

"Maybe he just wanted to see Machu Pichu. Just because you're on the run, doesn't mean you can't experience a little culture." Nicky said.

"True," I said.

"What's Ranger working on?" He asked.

"Yeah right." I said, "You ask him."

Nicky thought about that, yeah even the mob didn't like to tangle with Ranger unless they had to.

"Why's the cop here? I see the new hardware; he taking time off to play chaperone?" Nicky asked.

"You're kidding, right? I thought everyone knew; it's all over Facebook and Twitter," I said.

"I don't pay attention to that shit," Nicky said, "Why the fuck do I care what you had for breakfast or when you took your latest crap?"

"Word," I said, "But my grandma is into it."

I took my laptop back and found grandma's facebook, I scrolled through some seriously questionable humor and found the pictures of Ranger and me in the diner. I handed him back the laptop. Nicky whistled in surprise.

"Didn't see that one coming," he said, "I understand it, but I had you pegged for a traditionalist who would settle down with a nice Italian boy, pump out a dozen kids."

"You do remember what I do for a living don't you?" I said dryly, "What about me says traditional?"

"So why's he here then?" Nicky asked.

"Joe's here because he is taking exception to the fact that it's over. He and Ranger got into it, and I got tagged trying to break it up," I said. I lifted up my sunglasses, so the swelling and bruising showed better.

"Ouch. Bet it was Morelli that hit you; he's all Italian fire, no control when he's pissed. Ranger wouldn't have hit you."

"It was an accident, and Ranger broke Joe's nose for doing it, so all's well," I said.

The waiter arrived with our drinks and Nicky closed my laptop and put it on the table between us. He took his drink; it was pink and cream in color, complete with twisty straw, cherry, and umbrella. It was such a girly drink, and I was surprised Nicky would order something like this. Then I took a sip; holy crap it was delicious. This is what I was drinking from now on; I was going to have to get the recipe from the bartender so next time I need a frozen medicinal drink, it could be this.

"Shocked the hell out of me to see you here yesterday; I thought you were coming to whack me," I said.

"Nah, wouldn't want to bring that shit storm down on Harry. Pure coincidence. My kid is going to FSU, my wife had a membership here, so she had a safe place to stay when she came to visit. My daughter inherited the membership from her mother when my wife passed last year, so she's putting me up," Nicky said.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't know you were married. I always thought that Harry was waiting for Vinnie to either die or for Lucile to divorce him so he could put you together?"

"Christ no! Vinnie is the scum of the earth but probably the only one who can stand Lucile in large doses," Nicky said, "She's worse than your cousin, Shirley."

My cousin Shirley was known as "The Whiner" because she made Eeyore look manic and schadenfreude was her specialty. Tell her that you want to have a pity party and she'll fucking cater it for you. About the only person who could stand her in large doses was Eddie; everybody else walked away feeling like they needed a Xanax. I didn't have a lot of exposure to Lucile outside of the occasional family gathering, and she was always hanging off of Vinnie; since I got enough of Vinnie at work, I tended to steer clear. If Nicky was saying that she was worse than Shirley, I felt sorry for Vinnie, and that wasn't a feeling I was particularly comfortable with.

"Did you decide to visit to escape the crap weather in Trenton?" I asked.

"No, I like storms like that in the city; the snow makes everything look clean for a few minutes," Nicky said, "I was supposed to come down for Easter, but then my kid sent me an email the precipitated an urgent departure. If I knew you and Ranger were coming down, I'd have come with you. It took me three connections to get here! Had to fly from Jersey to Boston to fucking Toronto where I could catch a flight to Tampa and then had to drive from Tampa to here. What the fuck is that?"

"You need a new travel agent," I said. That truly sounded hellish. That sounded like the sort of thing that happened to me whenever I travel anywhere.

"Tell me about it," Nicky groused.

"Is your daughter okay?" I asked.

"For. The. Moment, " Nicky said.

"Uh-oh," I said.

"Actually, you might be able to do me a favor with this one," Nicky said, "See, you're a successful female, and you're smart, my kid needs that since her mother passed. Maybe you could talk some sense into her."

"I don't know if I'm the best role model. Things tend to blow up around me and my life is always on the verge of a complete train wreck with little spurts of luck that keeps me on the rails for another couple of miles."

"Nah, you're good at you're job, otherwise Vinnie would have fired you so Harry wouldn't have his balls. Why do you think that Disease Vending Machine doesn't work for him anymore?"

"I really hope you mean Joyce." I said. Joyce Barnhardt was my nemesis. She used to do things like put gum in my hair in school and spread rumours about me. When i was young and stupid and thought it would be a good idea to marry Dickie Orr, I found her banging Dickie on my brand new kitchen table before the ink was dry on our marriage certificate. Since I started working for Vinnie, she's become a frequent pain in my ass on a professional level.

"Oh she has a name does she?" Nicky said. Okay so maybe I was starting to find Nicky a bit less scary; maybe I even liked him a little. "So my kid calls me a few weeks ago and tells me she's got a new boyfriend, just met him, thinks he hung the moon. Then four days ago I got this email."

He pulled his iPhone out of his trunks and opened his email and handed it to me. It was a picture of a pretty twenty something girl, who looked like Nicky with a lot less body hair. She was holding up her left hand and on it was what I think was a diamond ring, it was a narrow gold band with what might have been a diamond chip in the setting.

The email read:

Daddy, Tim proposed, and I said yes! He owns a dive shop in Monterey and he was here for a convention and he heads back in a week and I'm going with him! I figure i'll transfer my credits out west and finish my diploma next year. I told him that you wouldn't like us living in sin, so he said to invite you down early and we'll get married before we head out! Can you change your travel plans? :)

Love you daddy!

I scrolled down to the second attachment in the email. it was a picture of her with a tall beach blonde guy who looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't place him. He had floppy blonde hair, a panty melting grin and a surfer's body... And the words 'big mistake' written all over him. He looked like the sort of guy who could rock your world in the sack and make you agree that responsibilities were for other people and that getting stoned and spending your days on the beach were the way people were meant to live. Then a month in you'd wake up and realize that he doesn't want a girlfriend; he wants somebody who will make sure there's toilet paper and that his laundry is done.

"Oh Boy," I said.

"I can't see why she'd do something this stupid when's she's only got half a semester of University left," He said, "She won't listen to me; she says I don't understand her the way Timmy does or the way her mother did. Says I can't understand because I'm a chauvinist pig."

"Are you?"

"Of course I am! But that doesn't mean I don't know a useless idiot when I see one. I'd whack him but I don't shit where I eat," he said, "If I can convince her to come for lunch will you talk to her?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said, I might not be the best role model in history but I couldn't let a smart young girl mess up her life like this.

"You're a good person Miss Plum," Nicky said, "I'll get us a lunch reservation on the Terrace for noon."

I just hoped that I could follow through. I was sort of afraid he'd forget about pissing Ranger off and disappear me, if I didn't. Nicky left and I called Ranger.

"Yo," Ranger said.

"Hey, I'm going to have to take a rain check on lunch," I said.

"Did you get a better offer?" Ranger asked.

"Not better; more like one I couldn't refuse," I said.

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Nicky the Sparrow just invited me to have lunch with him so I could do him a personal favor," I said.

"Babe."

"Hey the good news is he's not here to whack anyone."

"Are you wearing your watch?" he asked.

"You don't know?"

"I'm in the car and the only screen I'm near at the moment is being held to my ear," Ranger said.

"Yes I'm wearing it,"

"Record the conversation," he said.

"You don't have any objections?" I asked.

"There are worse things in the world than a high-level mobster owing you a favor," he said and hung up.

A familiar shadow fell across me and a towel landed on the chair next to me. I looked up to see Morelli standing with his hands on his hips, and he was shaking his head incredulously. Women were openly staring and I don't think they were noticing the black eyes and swollen nose so much as they were taking in the lean body, sculpted chest and perfect washboard abs.

"Cupcake," He started, his tone irked on a professional level. I squinted up at him.

"Does the nose look worse than it is?" I asked.

"No."

"Good," I said, "Dick move yesterday, I was too preoccupied with keeping you alive to let you know how truly pissed off I was. I told you we were coming down here to work, and you followed me anyway!" The best defense is a good offense, right?

"It didn't look like you were working too hard," Joe said.

"We were taking a break; we were working before that."

"And you're working now?" he scoffed.

"As a matter of fact, I am," I said.

"Really, because it looks to me like you're drinking fruity drinks with a mafia hit man, while working on your tan."

"I'm multitasking," I said. Joe flopped down on the deck chair beside me.

"What did he want?" Joe asked.

"I'll tell you if you give me some information," I said.

"Fine, what do _you_ want?" Joe said. He took my drink and took a sip of it, "Jesus, this is probably the girliest drink I've ever tasted."

I flagged a waiter and he ordered a beer.

"Tell me what you know about Ronnie Jankowitz?"

"He's the skip you're after? Hate to break it to you Cupcake, but he's probably in Belize. That man had 'flight risk' written all over him. I'm kind of surprised that Vinnie would have bonded him out; Vinnie's scum but he's not stupid."

"Who the hell knows why he did it; he's regretting it now. Besides, Ranger and I are fairly certain we have a general idea of where Jankowitz is. We're fairly certain he's in Peru," I said. I told him, what I found this morning and he scratched his head in thought.

"I have some contacts in ATF who might know something. They like to keep an eye on anyone who suddenly decides to take a business interest in Peru."

"Actually, I was more thinking you could make a different phone call for me. I have all of his financials here and this man is all about greed. i don't think it's likely that he was writing a column for the paper, simply for the fun of it, but a regular paycheck would have shown up. I was wondering if you could maybe call the paper and find out what name is written on the Happy Gourmet's checks…"

"Fine, but if you're right about this and you're thinking about going to Peru to pick him up, I can't believe I'm saying this, make sure you bring Ranger. If Jankowitz has partners in Peru, they are almost certainly Cartel."

I nodded, "Ranger already said if I could get a lead, he'd go with me."

Joe sighed, "What did Nicky want?"

"I'm not stupid; you don't get your information until you make your call." I said. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone and dialed his contact at the newspaper.

"Hey Cindy, I need a favour," he said. He smiled at his phone and dropped his voice an octave, "Well I've been offering for years and you always turn me down." silence while he listened, "Well there is only one way to find out."

I rolled my eyes while he flirted with Cindy for another minute or two and then got to business, "I'm working a case, something has come up; it's probably nothing so I don't want to go through the hassle of getting a warrant and potentially fucking up someone's life but I need to know who the Happy Gourmet is," he said. He waited for a few minutes and then he took my pen and notepad and scribbled down a name, "Thanks, I'll bring you back something nice from Florida." He hung up and handed me back my pad, the checks were made out to Greta Robinson.

"Thanks," I said and shoved the notepad into my bag.

"Now spill," he said.

I told him what was going on with Nicky and he let out an exasperated sigh, "For that I now owe Cindy Gershwin a favour?" Cindy Gershwin bore a striking resemblance to Jessica Rabbit. I had a feeling that owing her a favor wasn't exactly going to be a hardship for Morelli and I had to fight down a hypocritical spark of jealousy.

"Did I say it was a fair exchange of information?" I asked.

"You're a pain in my ass."

"I try. Are you going to call the ATF?"

"Yeah, I'll email you what I get," he said. He got off of his deck chair, "Seriously, be careful with this one Cupcake. I know we're not together, but I still love you and I'll kill Ranger if he lets something happen to you."

"I'm always careful; it's just that bad things seem to happen to me." I said.

"Could I convince you to wear a wire to this lunch?"

"Look at me Morelli, where the fuck am I going to hide a wire that would be remotely useful?" I said. He didn't need to know that I was wearing James Bond's watch and that Ranger would listen in on everything.

He did a slow scan of my body and sighed before leaving. I checked the time; it was almost noon, so I'd have to get a move on soon if I didn't want to be late for lunch with Nicky. I was about to toss my computer back into my bag when another body came hurtling into the musical pool chair next to me. It was Nadia, wearing a painfully pink bikini with glittering gold straps. She had on enormous white Chanel sunglasses with purple-green iridescent reflective lenses that made her look a like an oversized pink bug and the squeal she let out before she started gushing at me, nearly split my eardrum.

"Holy cow! You've got to be the most interesting thing to happen in this neighborhood since forever... Whoopsie!" Nadia added as she accidentally spilled the rum punch that she was holding in her left hand. From the amount of day drinking going on I guessed most people ascribed to the policy that it's always five o'clock by the pool.

"Thanks, I think," I said and handed her a napkin.

"First of all, your fiancé is H-O-T hot, then there's your job, and then yesterday two men were fighting over you. Now this morning I see you with a guy we're all sure has to be mafia, and then a man with possibly the best ass on the Eastern seaboard and he's looking at you like he knows every inch of your body intimately. Between you and what happened last night, my phone is blowing up."

"The mafia guy is Nicky the Sparrow; he was giving me information in exchange for some help with his kid," I said, "It's not that exciting actually. I'm from Trenton, everybody is either related to the mob or knows someone who is."

"What kind of information?"

"I'm a bounty hunter; he had some information about a skip I've been looking for, for a while. Nicky knows my cousin and knew I was looking so he offered a trade," I said.

"That is actually deeply cool," Nadia said, "And the hottie?"

"Joe Morelli, he's a Cop and my ex. He's the one who got into the dust-up with Ranger. He's working on a case, and I needed him to work one of his informants for me."

"Do you know what I did this morning? I got my roots done and played Sudoku on my phone.' she said.

"But apparently last night was exciting?" I asked.

"Oh yeah!" she said and sat up. She singled for another drink, "So you remember my friend DeeDee right? So she comes to the party last night, and she has like no alcohol tolerance; she's one of those, my body is my temple types."

"Ranger is like that," I said.

"I feel bad for him. Anyway, last night DeeDee does something she never does, and she gets completely shit faced. She's in no shape to drive so I put her to bed, and she starts crying and says that someone's broken into her house, and that's why she asked me to take over the party."

"Did they take anything?" I asked.

"She passed out before she said. So being concerned, naturally I went over and checked things out. I can't see anything wrong except that her diploma is off of the wall, it's not in its frame, it's lying in the middle of their kitchen island next to a picture of this ugly fat woman, and a pile of candy bars. So this morning I asked her what that was all about, and she said she had no idea who that was, and it was some mean prank."

"Did she call the police?" I asked.

"No, she said there was no point. We already know what they are going to say. They are going to come in, tramp around the house, dust for fingerprints, take a million pictures and then say they will get back to us, but then say that they honestly can't devote the man power to a bunch of pranks that don't even count as vandalism," she said, "I don't blame them really, I mean they are right. It's more annoying than anything else, but it's a bit creepy to have someone come into your house and touch your things without permission."

"How many people has this happened to?" I asked.

"There hasn't been a street, 'cept yours actually, that hasn't been hit. Poor Roy, security is as tight as he can make it, but the guards he has are either retirees looking for extra bucks or kids who do this part time while they go to school; they have no investigative experience. He's out of his league."

"That's awful; I wonder why our street hasn't been hit?" I asked.

"Probably because he only ever strikes when people aren't home, and your house has been vacant until now, your neighbors never leave, and the Princess at the end of your street doesn't deign to socialize with us, so if she were hit, we wouldn't know."

"Huh.' I said, "Suddenly I'm grateful for Ranger's paranoia; he insists that I set the alarm even if I'm only leaving for two minutes, and he has an app on his phone to double check that it's armed if I'm home alone."

"He's not controlling is he?"

"No, his paranoia is justified," I said, "I get into a lot of trouble because of my work, and I am a magnet for people who are a few fries short of a happy meal. I usually have one stalker or another following me around."

"You're joking! Aren't you terrified?"

"You get used to it. My current stalker is mostly harmless; he just likes to figure out where I'm going so he can make sure I have a good parking spot."

"That's not a stalker; that's just fucking useful."

"It was, but he got himself locked in the slammer because he stopped lying in the spaces when someone nearly ran him over. He took to waving a gun around instead, and managed to shoot a cop in the ass by accident."

Nadia looked at me like she was sure I was jerking her chain. Then a shocking pink lightbulb went off over her head.

"I just had this brilliant idea," She said, "Have lunch with me."

"I can't today. I'm already booked; I have to do a favor for a mobster remember?"

"Okay come to my house after and we'll have a girl talk. I could get a couple of the girls to join us, the ones who've had their houses broken into, and they can tell you their stories, and maybe you can make something of it. You can do a little private investigating for us; I know you do that sometimes, I read that about you in a newspaper article."

"I don't know; Ranger and I are on vacation right now, and we both need it. The only reason I'm working today is that this is worth a lot of money to my boss, and I couldn't turn down the opportunity to get more information," I said. What I wanted to say was, 'Fuck yeah I do!' But I didn't want to seem too eager to help; I thought if I didn't at least offer a token argument she might think I was a little too enthusiastic.

"Come on," she said, using her most persuasive voice, "You said he worries about you; do you think he's going to relax when he realizes there is someone breaking into people's houses?"

I sighed, "Fine, but I won't take your money; I promise nothing, and you can't tell Ranger."

She crossed her heart, "Come over around two, and I'll round up the girls." She hopped off of the deck chair, I packed up and went to lunch feeling quite proud of myself. I got a lead on Jankowitz; I found out why Nicky was in Florida and Nadia was going to get me access to a bunch of information we needed and an excuse to ask questions we couldn't ask until now. Not bad for a morning spent drinking by the pool.


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN: Surprise! Here have a bonus chapter!**_

Nicky was waiting for me on the patio of the Terrace restaurant with his daughter and the gorgeous beach bum. He ushered us to a table under a purple umbrella and promptly left instruction with the waiter that everything was to be charged to his room. Then he announced that he couldn't listen to their idiocy anymore and left. I turned off the recording device on my watch and got a text from Ranger thanking me for sparing him from the conversation that was likely to follow. We placed our orders with the waiter and once the drinks were served we got down to business.

"Daddy is so totally unreasonable! He thinks Timmy is a total slacker and won't believe me that he's not at all. He obviously listens to you; make him see reason!" Nicky the Chick asked.

"Okay, first of all, what's your name? Your dad didn't tell me and I only just found out you existed like, an hour ago," I said.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Rebecca," She said, "He told me I had to talk to you because you have your head screwed on straight."

"I don't know how accurate that statement is," I said, "Look, you lost your mother, school has gone to shit and you're looking to feel something good. Timmy is chill and that's what you need right now, but if you quit school and marry him you're going to regret it. What's wrong with waiting for a couple of months?"

"It's not what you think," Rebecca said.

"I think he's fun, free spirited, funny, does an excellent keg stand, likes to smoke more than the occasional bowl, is fantastic in the sack and owns a dive shop. Am I wrong?" I asked.

"Dude," Timmy said, "Totally nailed that in one." He checked me out in a non-threatening way and flashed me that devastating smile.

"Shut up Timmy," she said exasperated, "Listen, I know what daddy thinks is happening right now, but he's totally wrong. Timmy is Timothy Marenaro."

"The Timothy Marenaro?" I asked. Timothy Marenaro Diving was the Ron Jon of dive shops. Their equipment was fashionable, brightly colored and they somehow managed to produce a wetsuit that was figure flattering. The CEO was notoriously reclusive, spent his time traveling and researching new ideas.

"Yes," Rebecca said, "I'm going to FSU for Business. Timmy wants me to come out west with him because he thinks I have a talent for marketing and he wants me to intern for his marketing department. Once I'm done the internship, UC Berkley has already said that I can finish my program there and with a completed internship with TMD I'll be given guaranteed acceptance into their graduate program."

"And I didn't even have to pull any strings. I told you, you were talented, Babe," he said and tugged her ponytail affectionately. That he called her 'Babe' and tugged her ponytail sort of endeared him to me and whether or not the relationship actually worked it sounded like a fucking excellent opportunity. I really should have written a will before agreeing to do this.

"Shit," I said, resigned, "Timmy give me your driver's license."

"What? Why?" Rebecca asked.

"Because TMD's CEO is a recluse and I want to run a background check on Timmy to make sure he's not Cat-fishing you, before I figure out what the hell I'm going to say to your father."

"No! You aren't going to do that…" Rebecca's voice was shrill, but Timmy put a hand on her shoulder.

"Chill Babe, I'd totally do the same thing if Kimmy wanted to marry a dude she just met," He reached into his wallet and produced his California Driver's license.

"Who's Kimmy?" I asked, as I powered up my laptop and connected to Rangeman's servers.

"My baby sister; she's sixteen and I've been looking after her since our parents died a few years back," Timmy said, "One of the reasons I came east is because I'm thinking of setting up a factory here, so I have an excuse to come this way more often. Kim just got early admission to Harvard, and I'm gonna miss her. So I figure I'll come here, check out the factory and head north to look in on the munchkin, ya know?"

Fuck, I was liking him more and more. I put the driver's license into Rangeman's super invasive search engines. It took a minute for it to process, and then it began slowly spitting everything out; his net worth (he made Midas look insolvent), his business, even his sister's admittance to Harvard and then finally pictures of him. He was legit.

"Okay, you guys sit tight; I'm going to make a phone call," I said.

"Who are you calling?" Rebecca asked.

"Doesn't matter," I said. I got up from the table and took my bag and my laptop with me. I fished out my phone and dialed Connie.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I need to talk to Harry," I said.

"Why?"

"It's a long story, and I don't have a lot of time," I said, "I promise I'll tell you everything when I get home."

Connie gave me Harry's phone number, and I called him.

"This had better be good," Harry said when he answered.

"Harry, it's Stephanie Plum," I said.

"Ah Miss Plum, I'm glad you're doing this thing for Nicky; It's been driving him crazy."

"Yeah, I know. The thing is, I sort of accidentally ended up on Rebecca's side," I said, "I have a good reason for it, but I'm sort of afraid that Nicky will whack me if I tell him she's not making a mistake."

"Yeah, that's a real possibility," Harry said, "It would be unfortunate too. You do good work."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, and then told him what happened at lunch.

"I'll call Nicky. You sure this mook checks out?"

"I used the same databases Ranger uses to run the background check."

"That's pretty god damned sure," Harry said, "Hey, I'm glad you called. Nicky told me you might have a lead on the asshole your idiot cousin bonded out for a million of _my_ dollars, and then lost. I did some checking for you, in regards to his South American connection, and I heard that he was seen talking to a guy from the Juarez Cartel by the name of Wilburt Stokes."

"Wilburt Stokes?" I asked, "Are you sure that's his name?"

"Doesn't sound too South American does it? His daddy was DEA back in the day, and Juarez turned him. Junior now works as their talent scout. I don't know if he's got actual business with your skip, but I thought you might find that information useful."

"What's that going to cost me?" I asked, dreading another favor.

"Nothing, Gorgeous; just find me my god damned money or I'm probably gonna have to hurt Vinnie," he said. I thought about that for a beat.

"How hurt?" I asked. Vinnie probably could use a little beating.

Harry laughed, "Enough that my little girl would cry, and I hate when she cries. They are trying to have a baby, and her mother would make my life uncomfortable if she got upset."

I cringed, "Are we sure we want Vinnie to spawn?" I asked.

"Terrifying thought isn't it? And the rodent will be my grand baby," Harry said with an audible shudder.

I got off of the phone with Harry and went back to the table to wolf down my lunch because I was now in a hurry to get to Nadia's house. Rebecca and Timmy could care less that I was there; any second someone was going to tell them to get a room. I was half out of the restaurant when Nicky stopped me.

"You're sure he's legit?" Nicky asked.

"As sure as I can be,' I said, "If you listen to them and you still have reservations, get him to sign a prenup where your daughter wins if this goes down the tubes. I think the risk is worth what she's getting out of the deal."

He handed me a card, "You need anything; you call me anytime day or night. Harry, told me about Stokes and Jankowitz. Harry, he don't see much more than a suit, but there's a reason why Juarez likes this guy. He's a fucking psycho genius with permission to practice law and a talent for exploiting the shit outta loopholes. You wanna be careful on this one," Nicky said.

"I will," I said.

"Don't lose that number, Cookie; you might find you need it," Nicky said. He kissed my good cheek goodbye and went back to Rebecca. Okay, yeah not how I was expecting that one to end. I got into the golf cart and hit the road; I was a bit late for Nadia's gathering, but I doubt she'd mind much.

I was pretty sure that Nadia lived on bowline road, so I swung in there and took a wild guess that her house was the one with the pink stucco and eight carts in the driveway. I pulled into a space and knocked on the door. Nadia opened it holding a margarita in her hand.

"We're all by the pool Stephie; come on through," she said and air-kissed both cheeks. Nadia's house looked like I would think Barbie's beach house might look. Everything was done in pink and white, including her hot pink sofa. She led me through to the pool deck, which was painted white and the infinite pool and hot tub both had iridescent pink and pearl tiles in it. It was basically how my nieces' probably picture heaven. I covertly took a picture of the pool area and it's occupants, to send to them later.

There was a bartender manning the wet bar, wearing a pink and white uniform, and three women were dangling their feet in the Dream Hot-Tub while sipping frozen drinks. Nadia clapped her hands and conversation stopped as they directed their attention to us.

"Everyone, our guest of honor has _finally_ arrived! Ladies this is Stephanie Plum, soon to be Manoso. Stephie, you know DeeDee," Nadia said and I waved.

DeeDee had her hair in a messy French braid and was wearing a pink babydoll sundress with white fringe. The dress barely covered her doodah but the fringe hung to her knees. "Beside Dee Dee is Carol, Rhonda, and Cheryl," Nadia said, pointing to each girl as she said their names.

Carol was in her late thirties, early forties, with a long brown hair and enormous golden brown eyes, she was wearing a pair of short white shorts with a blue kaftan top. Rhonda had long glossy black hair, skin the color of dark chocolate and legs that were a mile long. She was in a pristine white bikini with a white chain for a belt. Cheryl had curly blonde hair and a cherubic face on top of a bombshell's body. She was wearing white capris and a pink tank top that hugged her jugs like showing them off to perfection was a mission it took seriously.

"And finally, it wouldn't be a party without Candy," Nadia said pointing away from the pool to the other side of the patio where a woman was just finishing up a call on her cell.

"It's Candice; Candy is a stripper name," Candice said. She approached and shook my hand. She was wearing a black strapless maxi dress, her blonde hair was flatiron into submission against the humidity, she wore immaculate make-up, and I was pretty sure I was going to go blind from the glare off of her engagement ring. She was also the only one who probably wasn't already drunk.

Everybody was staring at me with rabid curiosity.

"Are you really a bounty hunter?" Carol asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Are you good?" Rhonda asked.

"I always get my guy," I said with a shrug. Well, almost always. Sometimes they vanish off of the face of the earth and not even Ranger can find them.

"You do any super tough cases?" DeeDee asked.

"She's brought in several very high bond cases that other bounty hunters wouldn't touch. She found a missing girl that the FBI and most of the police from here to new Jersey couldn't find, and she's taken down a couple of serial offenders. One of which was Benito Ramirez," Candice said, "I looked you up when Nadia called."

"Apparently I have good instincts," I said.

"And the tenacity of a Pitbull," Candice said. She lit a cigarette.

"Oh Candy, God don't; that's gross," Nadia trilled waving her hand in front of her scrunched face.

"Bite me," Candice said, "So why are you really here? I don't buy for a moment that you are here on vacation. Carlos Manoso doesn't take vacations, and if you feed me some line about him needing time to readjust to civilian life, or get over some trauma, I won't buy it. He makes Chuck Norris nervous."

"Truthfully?" I said. I fed them the same story I gave Nicky and when I was finished, they were wide-eyed. Well except Candice. She was trying to figure what to make of me.

"Well, what can you do to find him from the computer?" Nadia asked, "I mean wouldn't the authorities have done that already?"

"Sometimes, but most of the time, they leave it up to us BEAs because we don't have to worry about the same laws they do, and we can cross jurisdictions without a hassle."

"And it doesn't eat up the police budget," Candice said, "The bail bondsman is on the line for the money so if the bond is high enough they are willing to shell out the resources to bring them back. In exchange for your time you get what? 5% of the Bond?"

"Ten," I said.

"Big payday on a guy like what's his nuts," Candice said.

"If I can find him," I said.

We spent half an hour talking about my job, most of which sounded way cooler out loud than it actually was. They were suitably impressed with me, well everybody but Candice who knew I was lying about my reason for being here, but she didn't say anything. Then they wanted the nitty gritty on my personal life and that's when I deflected and brought them around to the purpose of my visit.

"So all of your houses were broken in to?" I asked.

"Yeah," Cheryl said, "Only there was no breaking of anything; they just came in and did stuff."

I made a face, "What kind of stuff?"

"Eew nothing like that! If it were that, the police would call him a sex offender and actually care," Cheryl said with a laugh, "We came home to find all of our pots lined up on the counter with every book in the house in the pots, it really pissed my husband Danny off."

"And in my house, it was half of my handbags put out on the bed. I thought Larry was going to blow a gasket," Carol said.

"Let me guess, he was pissed because he was worried? My ex was like that," I said.

"No, I'm pretty sure it was because he didn't realize how many I had!" she laughed, "Don't you wanna take notes or anything?"

"Not my style," I said, "Did any of you take pictures or anything?"

"I did. I was going to put them up on Instagram but Larry wouldn't let me," Carol said. She handed me her phone.

"Can I text these to myself?" I asked.

"Yeah, of course."

"It would help if I could see the handbags."

"I'll put them in a box and bring them to you tomorrow. This is very exciting!" She clapped her hands in glee and then suddenly froze, a look of concern on her face. "Only you're not going to do anything to them are you?"

"No, just look at them." I said, "Anybody else have evidence they could show me?"

"I don't think I can bring you all of the books without ticking Danny off, but I can give you a list of them," Cheryl said.

"That would be helpful, who else?" I asked.

"He came into our house and brought our entire bed down and set it up by the pool," Rhonda said, "Brett has these security cameras he's installed around there because he thinks that if you're going to break into our house, it would be easy to come in through the pool doors. I keep telling him that he's crazy because even though we're only a few feet off of the boardwalk, we're like two minutes from security and nobody would be stupid enough to try to break in that way."

"Did he cut the feed to the cameras?" I asked.

"No, that's what pisses Brett off the most I think, because the burglar knew where all the blind spots were and kept to them until he had all of the cameras covered up," Rhonda said, "When he was done he pointed them all at the bed and jammed them so they couldn't move."

I spent an hour getting their stories, and stories of women who weren't there but that they'd heard about, recording them all on the memo app on my cell phone. When I was finished, they were mostly plastered and had started giggling over other stuff. The only one who didn't tell me her story was Candice and she didn't look all that keen to talk. My cell phone rang at quarter to five, and I checked the read out before I picked up. It was Joe.

"Hey," I said.

"It's possible your skip is involved with…"

"The Juarez cartel?" I said. All of the girls froze mid conversation to listen to my phone call.

Christ, at least people in the Burg had eavesdropping down to a science, and they weren't quite so fucking blatant about it.

"I'm glad I spent my time calling in that favor," Joe said.

"Hang on," I said and walked away from the pool, and spoke again once I was out of earshot, "Harry told me."

"Did he give you the name Morty Glick?" Joe asked.

"No, Wilburt Stokes. Who's your guy?"

"Morty Glick is conciliary for the New York Branch of the Grizzoli family. Good old Morty has turned snitch and says that the Grizollis are switching suppliers and have been speaking to Stokes about funding a takeover of their current source in exchange for a favor for a friend in need."

"And this friend?"

"Morty didn't have a name, but this friend needed a passport in a hurry and Morty referred him to a forger by the name of Pricilla Johnston." Joe said. Pricilla was the forger Ranger used when he needed a quick and high quality set of ID. My guess is that's who 'the right people' were when he told Rodriguez to look into Jankowitz's fake credentials.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, the DEA and ATF are both saying that if you are right about this, and you and Ranger decide to go in and pick up Jankowitz they would like a heads up."

"Can I tell Ranger why?"

"Because they may want you to get something else while you are there."

"Uhh that's above my paygrade."

"But not Ranger's so be careful Cupcake," Joe said and hung up.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. I was beginning to think this whole hunt for Jankowitz was above my pay grade and that I might be smart to turn it over to Ranger for real. I wasn't sure if that was fear or pain talking because I was well passed due for a few pain killers and I was starting to get a headache again. The phone rang and this time, I answered it without looking.

"Yeah?"

"Babe," Ranger said.

"Do we have a dinner reservation or anything that we can skip? I could really use a meatball sub, one of the good painkillers and an Antiques Roadshow marathon," I said.

"The only confirmed plans I have are for Thursday," he said. I started grinning like an idiot, I couldn't help it.

"I'm going to come home soon," I said.

"I'll get dinner," Ranger said and disconnected.

I walked back to the pool, "Who was that?" Carol asked.

"Just a contact of mine," I said.

"Not the second call," Nadia said, "The second call was totally her babe of a fiance; you could tell by the smile. Have you got a picture, so they believe me about him?"

"Not on me," I laughed, "He's pretty camera shy; but, yes, that was him. He was calling to remind me that we have dinner plans."

"I'll walk you out," Candice said, "I'm going anyway."

The other girls waved to us and Candice led me through the house and out to the driveway. She was using a golf cart that looked like an Audi convertible, and she rolled her eyes at it. "My husband wanted an R8 and I told him that he wasn't allowed to have his midlife crisis until the kids were in college. He got me this for Christmas in an attempt to change my mind."

"Yeah, I don't think Ranger got the memo about the fun golf carts. How do you know him anyway?"

"He did some work for my husband's firm a few years ago. A client of theirs jumped bail, and the DA was thinking of charging my husband's firm with aiding and abetting. So they nipped that in the bud by hiring the best BEA in the country. The judge gave the firm 48 hours to produce their client and Ranger found him in two. My husband said it was fucking impressive."

"So he knows Ranger?" I was fairly certain that Ranger would tell me if he recognized someone on the list of residents.

"Not well, but he did tell me we could all rest a lot easier knowing he was living here now. I presume, Roman brought you in to investigate this thing?"

"I didn't think you bought my story," I said, "We're not exactly supposed to say since Roman's worried you'd be uncomfortable with the investigation."

"Yeah, well, I'm with my husband on this one, and I'm more comfortable knowing you two are in the neighborhood. Those idiots in there think it's all some silly game, but it's not. This is serious."

"What happened to you?"

"Not me, my daughter." she said, "Melissa is 17 and got herself knocked up in November. The boyfriend is a good kid but he's 18, and her father has no idea that she's even got a boyfriend, let alone one she's sleeping with. If he found out, the kid would be charged with statutory rape so fast his head would spin. She opted to have the pregnancy terminated; it was the right choice for her, and after it was over I put her on the Pill."

"Let me guess; the birth control was what this jerk left out?" I asked.

"Not just the pills, but a follow-up appointment letter from the clinic that performed the D&C and he put them on my husband's desk. I'm just glad I was the one who found them when I came home. That's what's so dangerous about him. He's exposing secrets that could ruin lives. The boyfriend is a good kid, he doesn't need to suddenly find himself on the sex offenders registry because he slept with a girl who is four months younger than he is."

"Tell me everything that happened that day; starting with from when you left to when you came home," I said.

"Melissa and I went shopping, my husband Drew was out fishing with our son Chris. We were the last to leave, I walked out of the house, armed the alarm and took Melissa to Miami to go shopping. We came home that night, got in at the same time as the boys, and I went upstairs to plug my cell phone in, in Drew's den. There was nothing out of place except for the letter and the Pills. I didn't want anyone to know anything, so I hid the letter and burned it in our barbecue pit after everyone went to bed. I was worried he might have tampered with the pills, so I went to her room and popped out the same number of pills from a fresh pack as were missing from the old pack and put them back where she usually hid them. I honestly don't know if he touched anything else in her room; she's a teenager, the place is a pigsty ninety percent of the time."

"Are you certain your husband wasn't the one who found them and maybe wished to discuss it later?"

"Yes," she said, "Because there was a note inside the pill box addressed to my husband."

"Did you keep that?" I asked, "Or the pills?"

She reached into her big straw beach bag and pulled out a ziplock bag with the pills. "I thought I'd save them in the event that Roman got off his ass and hired someone competent," she said and handed me the baggie. I slipped it into my purse.

"Why did you burn the letter from the clinic?" I asked.

"Because if my husband saw pills in my purse and questioned the ziplock, I could tell him I was worried about moisture getting into the pills. If he found the letter, that's not something I could explain away."

"Thanks for telling me. I promise I'll keep it as quiet as I can," I said.

"Mel doesn't know; Nadia doesn't know either, nobody does. I only came because I was in Milessa's when Nadia called Cheryl and Cheryl made me come with her for moral support," she said, "Leave us out of any report if you can."

"I promise; Ranger and I aren't trying to build a case here; we're just trying to find who did it."

"I don't know if I have any more information, but if you call the house asking for any, I won't answer. If you see me with anyone, and you ask questions, I won't answer; this has to be between us."

"Is there a time that Ranger and I could look at the house when your husband isn't there?" I asked.

"My son's 14th birthday party is tomorrow; half the neighborhood will be there. Show up; my husband would probably like to meet your fiance. If you look around when you're there, well fine," Candy said.

She got into her cart and started it, "This coward, the pig doing this? He's going to get worse; stop him."

She put the cart in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

I walked over to my own cart and got in. I using the bag, I popped open the pill case and the letter fell out. It was small and just had the name, Roger Dotson, and his date of birth. "Fuck," I said.

I shoved my keys into the ignition and suddenly had that tingling feeling in the back of my neck that accompanied the feeling that someone was watching me. I looked around and didn't see anyone. I went to turn the key and pulled my hand back. I didn't want to start the cart. Things were falling into place a little too easily and I was making a lot of progress. This was usually the point in the investigation that I started pissing people off and things started exploding. A ringing trilled under me and I jumped about a foot in the air, sure that the cart was about to explode. Then I realized the vibration accompanying the ring was not a pending explosion but coming from my bag on the floor by my feet and it was in fact just my phone ringing. I fished it out, saw that it was Ranger and answered it.

"Hey," I said.

"Problems?"

"How did you know?"

"Hal says you've been staring at the ignition for a while now," Ranger said.

"I'm waiting for something bad to happen," I said.

"Any particular reason you're expecting an explosion?"

"You want me to give you just one?" I asked.

"I'm on my way back; Hal will be with you in two minutes," Ranger said and disconnected. Two minutes exactly and Hal pulled up beside me in a blue and gray rental cart that was riding really low until Hal got out. He came over and popped the hood of my cart, he poked around for a minute and then looked under the chassis, saw nothing and gave me a thumbs up. I winced as I started it, nothing blew, and Hal dropped the hood.

The feeling that someone was watching me didn't go away, but I did feel better with Hal on my tail as we cruised back to the house. We pulled into the driveway; Hal made me wait while he checked the garage, presumably for killer clowns, and then he waved me in.

Hal took care of the carts and the garage doors and I went inside to grab myself a beer and went out to the dining room with my recorded conversations and began taking my notes. When I finished, I grabbed the file box and pulled out the latest known victims. The information we had on them was minimal at the moment, I would have to do a deeper background but I wanted to start with Cheryl and Daniel Winslow. Cheryl was a stay at home mom; they had two kids under four, she was from Old New York money and had never worked a day in her life. She didn't go to college and married her husband Daniel right out of high school. Daniel was an investment banker working for Cheryl's father. He made seven figures a year, and they had houses in New York, Florida and Aspen.

However, a bunch of books in pots on the stove? Seems like an obvious cheeky pun for cooking the books. I picked up my phone and called my friend Brenda Blomsky. She grew up in the Burg, and we went to high school together. She worked for the SEC and last time I saw her in Trenton, she gave me her card. The phone rang a few times, and she picked it up sounding breathless.

"Hello, Brenda Blomsky speaking."

"Hey, it's Stephanie Plum," I said.

"Hey! I was just talking to my mom; did you really dump Morelli so you could marry some OG?"

I laughed, "No, remember there was that guy who swung by Pino's when we were having drinks that night?"

"You mean the guy who came in to tell you he was going away, and the way he _looked_ at you was hotter than any goodbye kiss I'd ever seen?"

That was just before he went away the last time. He came into the bar and got my attention by whispering, "Babe," behind my ear. I damn near melted with lust. He was good at doing that to me. He followed it up by telling me he was going out of town and asked me if I would talk to him outside for a few minutes. He said goodbye in a way that left us both frustrated and wishing he wasn't on his way to the airport.

"He did kiss me when I went out to the car to get that file," I said, "He's the guy."

"Lucky you," She said. There was more panting, and I thought I heard a 90's dance mix in the background.

"Is this a bad time?"

"What? No, I'm at the gym; I'm on the treadmill training for a marathon. What can I do for you?"

"Beechman and Park National Investment Bank," I said.

"What about them?" She asked.

"They are on my radar; I'm wondering if there is anything fishy going on? I don't need details or anything."

"Uh not that I know of; I can make a couple of calls," she said, "Are you calling in a tip?"

"Maybe," I said.

"What have you got?" She asked. I heard the treadmill slowing down and the music in the background disappeared.

"It might be nothing, but I think Daniel Winslow might be up to something not so kosher," I gave her a brief rundown of our investigation.

"Steph, if there is something fishy going on at B&P it's a tremendous deal. They were one of the few big banks not to get caught up in the scandal in 2008. People trust this bank."

"I know; I don't throw this out there lightly, but something is up. So far this guy has exposed a few pretty crazy secrets that he should know nothing about. How else would you interpret all of his books finding their way into his pots?"

"Yeah, no kidding. I'm going to have to go to my boss to see what's up; I'll keep you out of it if I can."

"I appreciate that," I said. I hung up and looked at the table; I had a hunch about Carol's handbags. I sent Hector an email asking him if he could get me Larry Carson's browser history. A few minutes later I had a link in my email and I clicked on it. Hector was amazing. I looked at the bags in the picture Carol gave me and found Larry's eBay account. My hunch was sort of right. I felt Ranger come out on the deck, and the smell of marinara and fresh baked bread filled the air.

"It's not Pino's but it's just as good," Ranger said. He put the takeout bag on the one square foot of real estate left on the table and kissed me hello. "Good day?"

"Depends on your definition of good," I said, "What do you want first, Nicky the Sparrow, Ronnie Jankowitz, or this mess?" I asked and spread my arms wide indicating the pile on the table. He looked at me for a beat, his face neutral.

"Eat and talk; I'm hungry," He said. He motioned for the deck chairs since there was no real space to eat our subs on the dining table. We sat sideways on the chairs facing each other, and he dragged one of the side tables between us.

It took two beers and all of my sub to tell him everything. When I finished, he looked pensive.

"The Grizzolis trust Glick the way I trust you; if he's truly turned snitch, that's going to bring down the whole Grizzoli family. He knows where all of the bodies are buried, literally and figuratively," Ranger said.

"Morelli says he has," I said.

"I think it's more likely that the Grizzolis are using Glick to feed information to the authorities," Ranger said.

"Disinformation?"

"Hard to say," Ranger said.

"What do you know about Stokes?" I asked.

"That he exists," Ranger said, "I've never met him or had dealings with him. He's not photographed if he can help it, doesn't have a drivers license or passport, not in his name anyway."

"I'm starting to get a bit freaked out," I said.

"Usually, when you get freaked out, it means you're on the right track," Ranger said.

"About Jankowitz, yeah. The rest, though, all I'm doing is coming across a bunch of mini-mysteries, but I'm not making any actual progress."

"You're making progress," Ranger said, "Think of it like the edge pieces of a jigsaw puzzle; once you have them all, it's easier to fill in the rest of the picture."

"You're not one to usually draw on metaphor, Batman," I said with a grin.

"It's been a long day," Ranger said, "Besides scoping out Candice's house, what's your next step?"

"The bags; I think there's something there, but I won't know until I look at them."

"Nadia said our street was the only one not affected?" Ranger asked.

"So she claims," I said, "But I'm inclined to believe she's exaggerating; she seems like the type. I think she actually meant the knots, not the individual streets; if it's every street, then this has been going on for years and not a few weeks."

He looked over my notes once more and put them down. He rubbed his hand over his face looking momentarily fried.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"I'm glad I brought you to Florida, or I doubt we'd be making any progress in this," He said, "I ended up going to Miami again."

"Who is the client?" I asked.

"A partner in a law firm that specializes in child custody cases."

"So he makes a lot of enemies," I said.

"We run security for his firm, but since he's the public face, he gets a lot of the threats. We're screening his mail; we have body guards on his wife and children; his car is checked every morning for bombs and bad guys. That sort of thing."

"And he thinks you're being overprotective?" Having been on the receiving end of Ranger's overprotective nature for a long time, I knew how tedious and invasive it could be until there was an actual threat.

"Yes," Ranger said, "Until recently he was a pain in the ass, and the only reason he hadn't fired us is that his boss wouldn't let him."

"What happened?"

"The majority of our job is to scan his mail," Ranger said, "He gets hundreds of threats a week, most of them are benign; people pissed off and venting. A couple of weeks ago he got some letters concerning his daughter that one of my men didn't like; I read them and agreed, so we increased her protection. Last week her detail spotted something that made them restrict her movements even further and pull her from after school activities."

"What did they spot?"

"A house starting renovations," Ranger said, "It's not a big deal but my man said there was something off about the house. Until last week there had been zero activity at the house and then there was a contractor's van there every day. Still not a big deal, but he didn't like it and he asked me to come down for a second opinion. We sat on the house for a few days while my men did some digging and since we wanted everything above board, we got the Feds involved."

"Why? Because it's a potential kidnapping?" I asked, and Ranger nodded.

"Turns out my man was right; the house was owned by the bank, and there were no authorized repairs on the property. Yesterday the FBI raided the place and found a room you don't want to think about too hard and a very detailed kidnapping plan that if executed, would have been a very effective way to take her right out from under our noses."

"Oh my god!"

Ranger nodded, "Our team identified the potential threat and acted accordingly. His daughter has no idea of what almost happened to her and remains annoyed but innocent. Our client is now taking his security seriously and has told us that he's going to trust our judgment from now on."

"And if your risk assessment said your men were paranoid?"

"We'd have backed off," he said, "If the client is uncomfortable with our protection, we do what we can to fix that and still keep them safe."

"What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked, "Can you come to the party with me?"

"I'll make sure my schedule is clear, for the afternoon" he said. He picked up the debris from our subs and beer and took them into the kitchen. When he came back out, he took my hands and dragged me to my feet. "Did you request a pain killer and the Antiques Roadshow because you feel terrible?"

"My headache is gone, and I think I'll survive on just Advil. Did you need me for something?"

"I do," he said, "But if it makes you uncomfortable in a way you don't like, you have to promise that you'll tell me."

I nodded, confused. Ranger asked me to do things that made me uncomfortable all of the time; it was part of the job description. For example, sitting in a stakeout with two men and no heat or bathroom for hours is not exactly my idea of a picnic, but I did it, because it needed to be done. It was extremely unlikely that i would say no to whatever he had in mind. Even if I was tired.

"Where is your phone?" he asked. I went to the table and picked it up and brought it back to him. He powered it off, then did the same with his. "We need to have a critical discussion, and I don't want any interruptions."

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"I was distracted all day yesterday because of your dress. Do you know how difficult it is to care about anything when I know you weren't wearing anything meaningful under it? And this?" He fingered the strap of my dress, "not much better for my concentration."

"What are you saying, Ranger? Are you asking me to change how I dress?" I asked and planted my hands on my hips. Yeah, that wasn't going to fly, not at all.

"No," he said with a smile, "I wouldn't consider it for a second. I don't think you realize how often you ruin my focus."

"How often?"

"Every day since we met," he said, "And now that you're mine, I can show you just how much I love your kind of distraction."


	13. Chapter 13

_**AN: So it's a long weekend here and I thought, in honor of that, I would give you the longest chapter yet! Hope you like it! Once again thank you! You guys are wonderful and you're making it fun to write this!**_

I woke up sprawled in the middle of the bed; the overhead fan was blasting down on me, the windows were wide open, and all of the muggy air from outside was filling the bedroom. My first thought, as I stretched luxuriously, was that from that moment on I was going to take extra special care with how I dressed so that he'd show his appreciation like that again. My second thought was that I probably didn't want to look in the mirror.

We'd started in the hot tub, moved from there to the living room, from there I decided I needed a snack, and we did things in the kitchen that one shouldn't do in a kitchen, then we moved to the bedroom where he pulled out all the stops. I didn't take my makeup off because we were busy; the humidex was at a billion, and I was pretty confident that we were in for a storm, and when you combine all that, let's just say, that my 'fell out of bed' look was going to be anything but sexy.

I peeled myself off of the mattress and went to the bathroom to assess the damage. I was so horrified I couldn't move. And Ranger wanted to wake up to this every day? I looked like the Bride of Frankenstein after a rough night. I went into damage control and carefully washed my face. I put some more arnica cream on the bruising, popped an Advil for the mild swelling and then wrestled my hair back into a ponytail. I need coffee, a lot of it, before I could even begin to start repairing the damage to my hair after last night's activities. I got dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off sweatpants that I'd packed mistakenly thinking that I might want PJs and went downstairs to find Ranger.

The usual breeze wasn't blowing through the house and it seemed darker than usual; the house was still closed up, and it was the first time I'd seen it like that during the day. I'd thought that the turquoise glass would make the room look bright with the sun shining through it but it just made it look gloomy and dull. The controls for the walls were under the stairs, so I jogged down the stairs and was about to activate the switches when I heard the front door open and then voices in the vestibule. Specifically, I heard a woman laughing.

It was the kind of laughter that set my teeth on edge. It was the kind of laugh that was a little more than flirtatious, but hadn't quite reached seductive...Yet. The first time I heard this kind of laugh was about two days before I found my husband in flagrante on my kitchen table with Joyce Barnhartd. For one insane moment I thought that Joyce had found me, and was trying to fuck up my life again. Then I realized the laugh hadn't been as nasally as Joyce's, and I didn't smell brimstone because I was in the presence of the Antichrist.

"She's clearly not a runner," the voice belonged to Carol, of the handbags on the bed fame. Since she wasn't speaking in Spanish, she clearly wasn't talking to Hector, "I know how boring it is to run alone; maybe instead of me just tagging along, next time we can meet up somewhere. You can put me through my paces."

Oh, I was soooo going to kick her ass.

"No," Ranger said.

"If you're worried about Steph, she won't mind; she'll be sleeping, and she doesn't even have to know."

"No," Ranger said again.

"Well, maybe we can figure out some other way you can help me keep in shape."

Dammit, I wish Ranger actually communicated with words! It's hard to eavesdrop on a conversation when one of the participant's main forms of communication involved impressive eyebrow control and monosyllabic responses, "You're a morning person like I am aren't you?"

No shit sweetheart; he's up and running when the sun's thinking about hitting the snooze button.

"There's a reason you go running so early, and it has nothing to do with physical fitness and everything to do with releasing tension. It's so annoying when your partner can only think of coffee when they open their eyes in the morning," Carol's voice had changed to a purr.

"He's got you in bed with him, and he's thinking about coffee?" Ranger said with mild incredulity.

"He's crazy? I know," She purred.

I honestly could not believe what I was hearing! She came into my house, pretty much called me fat, and was throwing herself at my fiance? That shit was grounds for justifiable sleezybitchslaughter! Just shut her down Ranger!

"No, I was going to suggest a breath mint," Ranger said. I grinned and came out from under the stairs. They were still by the front door, from where they were standing they would have no way of knowing if I'd come down the stairs or out from under them. Ranger looked sweaty, like he'd been for a hard run, and he'd enjoyed every second of it. He was a freak that way. Carol looked like she had just been slapped in the face. She had her hair in french braided pigtails, a sports bra and cheeky running shorts that might have actually been underwear for what little they covered. Ranger gave me a once over when he saw me and smiled.

"I didn't hear screaming," he said, "Did I underestimate the damage I caused last night?" That he sounded like he was taking pride in the fact that he was directly responsible for my hair, kind of made love him a bit more.

"No," I said and looked at Carol as though I hadn't seen her there, "Hello Carol! Are you here to drop off those handbags?"

"I thought I'd bring them over later this morning; I just bumped into Carlos here while we were running this morning," she said sweetly, "I suggested it to him, and he said we'd have to see if you were available."

"I sure am," I said.

"And you'll be going to Candy's later?"

"You bet," I said just as sweetly and ushered her to the door, "Have a safe run home."

I practically shoved her through and closed the door behind her; hoping it hit her on the ass on her way out. I turned to see a smiling Ranger directly behind me. "You have nothing to worry about," he said.

"I know, but women like her piss me off," I said, "And for the record if I ever turn you down in the morning, it's going to be because I'm either dying of some disease, or I'm in need of more recovery time from the night before."

Ranger chuckled, "Noted," he said and kissed me good morning. The thing about Ranger's good morning kisses was that they were rarely hurried; it was like he was trying to set the bar for the day and Ranger was an over achiever. It was a seriously good thing to wake up to in the morning.

"Are you busy this morning?" I asked he nodded.

"I have an appointment with the Federal Prosecutor regarding my testimony and involvement in the case I told you about last night," he said

"You have to testify?" I asked, I never thought of Ranger on the witness stand. That didn't seem like a good idea.

"No, I'll give a closed deposition so I don't have to appear in open court. Putting me on the witness stand is just asking for trouble, and everybody knows that."

He tucked a mutinous curl behind my ear, "When are you leaving?" I asked, wondering if we had time to do more damage to my hair.

"He's coming here," Ranger said. We went back upstairs together and Ranger had a lightning quick shower and I flopped backwards onto the bed. He was showered, dressed and looking edible, in five minutes. That he was that quick and didn't invite me to join him in the shower, probably meant the meeting was sooner rather than later.

"It's going to take me at least an hour to look presentable," I said, "Should I do that now or can I have coffee and eat?"

The doorbell rang.

"No," Ranger said, "Get your coffee, and take your getting dressed."

I went downstairs with him and grabbed the whole pot of coffee and a mug. It was going to take more than one cup of coffee before I was ready to tackle this monstrosity. Ranger smiled at the sight of the pot in my hand and waited until I was upstairs before he opened the door.

I had two cups of coffee and then got down to the business of becoming presentable. I showered and put half a bottle of conditioner in my hair, rinsed it out in icy cold water then got out and towel dried my hair and put in a glob of anti-frizz gunk. That done, I repeated the bruise hiding makeup routine of the day before and got dressed in a pair of white shorts with a scalloped hem and a bright blue, pink and baby yellow, racer-backed tank top. I skipped footwear since I was just going downstairs, and bringing the coffee pot with me, I went to the kitchen to forage for breakfast.

Ranger had opened up the house, now so there was a nice breeze blowing through. He and the Prosecutor were at the dining room table, our work was stacked neatly on most of the chairs, Ranger and our guest were sitting at the end of the table closest to the pool, in the only chairs that didn't currently contain our work.

"Am I intruding?" I asked, "If I am I can work on my tan while i eat my breakfast, and then make myself scarce."

Ranger pushed his seat back slightly from the table in invitation and I walked round to his side.

"Nope, we were just finishing up," the Prosecutor said and stood up, "Rory Altman, and you must be Stephanie."

I put my food down and leaned across the table to shake Rory's hand. He was forty-something with black hair that was graying at the temples. He had the ubiquitous Florida tan, and he didn't seem too bothered by the heat.

"Nice to meet you," I said. I sat on Ranger's lap, and started pushing the cereal down into the milk with my spoon. I suppose I could have just cleared off a chair, but he was offering, and I wasn't about to say no.

"We need to have a discussion about what constitutes a healthy breakfast," Ranger said, "What the hell is that?"

"We have had this discussion many, many times, and these are Lucky Charms, Ranger. Even you have to know about Lucky Charms," I said.

"I know about them, but I've never seen them up close," he reached into my bowl and picked out a piece, "What is this supposed to be?"

"You were seriously neglected as a child; it's a marshmallow horseshoe," I said.

"It's dehydrated something, but that is not a marshmallow," he said. Ranger fed me the horseshoe and looked back at Altman.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" Ranger asked.

"You're sure about him doing a trial run?" Rory asked.

Ranger cocked an eyebrow at him. I guess that's what he did to other people who didn't get the moniker "Babe." Though what's the male equivallent of "babe" anyway? "Dude" maybe? The thought cracked me up and I nearly choked on my cereal, trying not to laugh.

"You're right; what was I thinking?" Altman said, "Let's go over this again; based on what we found, give me some clue as to what we are looking for. Start with the car battery."

And this is where I checked out before I couldn't stomach my Lucky Charms anymore. Ranger, being the guy that he is, was prepared for this. He put his arm around my waist to prevent me from bailing off of his lap as he leaned across the table for his laptop and the one remaining file on the table. He put both in front of me, and took a half empty legal pad from in front of Altman; the pen he had covered and retrieved from his pocket. I looked at the file, Diane Desmond aka DeeDee. Right, to work.

I cracked my knuckles, shoveled a bite of Lucky Charms that was mostly marshmallows into my mouth and nearly gagged. That was too sweet even for me. The crunchy bits are there for a reason, to balance out the reality that Ranger was probably right about the marshmallows.

The file said that DeeDee and her husband Richard were both from suburban, upper-middle-class families. DeeDee's family lived in Maine, and Richard's family lived not far from Newark. In 1998, DeeDee was on track to represent the US at the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games but had to pull out due to an unspecified injury. She made her name with a best-selling diet book, and it was during the promotion of the second edition of the book, she met Richard.

There was absolutely no mention of a post-secondary education of any kind, which was unusual, so I pulled the laptop closer and went to enter Ranger's Rangeman login, and got an incorrect password. Ranger, who had been employing his insane multi-tasking skills to keep an eye on my work while having his scary talk with Rory, leaned over without interrupting his conversation and punched in his new password. He did it slowly so I could see what it was, Julie's birthdate with my initials between numbers. Easy to remember so you didn't have to write it down, but impossible to guess.

It took me all of two minutes after that to determine that DeeDee'd lied about her education. Not exactly the world's biggest deal, everybody lied to some degree; she probably did it to sell her books. I found a copy of her e-book online and a quick skim of the book synopsis and a look at the meal plans, made it so I was sure I didn't want to try it.

The book was a week by week guide to weaning yourself off of processed foods and high calories in order to bring you down to your perfect weight. Every chapter gave the challenge for the week; which was to eliminate something else and to try something new. There were meal and exercise plans for every day of the week, with no cheat/rest days allowed. The weekends were where you pushed yourself the hardest because those were the days where you were most likely to fall off the wagon. The theory was that if you knew you had to go for an extra long run, or an insane CrossFit workout the next morning, the less likely you were to be tempted by that dessert or that sugary drink.

Week one didn't seem too bad; no exercise, and there was a lot of fruit in the morning, as you eliminated bread and cereal from your morning diet. Lunches actually looked like they would be delicious, and dinner was basically what Ranger liked to eat. Fish/ lean meat brown rice, steamed veggies. Week two was more of the same, only now you added exercise to your day. Week three was the week you began to eliminate your sweet tooth and I was out.

Ranger paused his conversation with Rory to comment on the meal plan, "It's an interesting premise but would fail completely for anyone like you," he said.

"Because I hate running and love cake?" I said.

"Because you have a high metabolism and need more calories than that. If you followed the meal plan without the workout, you'd be hard pressed not to be hungry. With the workout, you'd last a week before you ate the entire contents of the break room refrigerator," he said.

"Don't tell me you are thinking of going on a diet, Stephanie?" Rory said.

"Victimology for our case," Ranger said.

"One of our victims wrote a diet book," I said, "And for a minute there I was worried that was going to tell me that I should give the book a try. He thinks I should change the way I eat," I said.

"All I'm asking is that you eat foods that only contain ingredients you can pronounce," he said.

"Sodium Hexametaphosphate," I said.

"You've been practicing," he said.

"So?" I said. Like I said, we've had this discussion a thousand times before. I was determined to shut him up about it so I looked up the pronunciations of the various ingredients online.

"That's just sad, Babe."

Rory laughed, "This book, does it have any disclaimers in it?" he asked. I spun the computer around to show him the e-book. He did some scrolling of his own, then looked at us, "You know she's been sued right?"

"No," I said, "Our initial background check would have turned that up immediately. It would have been one of the first things we looked at."

"Not if the courts sealed the records from the suit," Ranger said, "What makes you think there was a lawsuit?"

"At the beginning of every diet and exercise plan, there is a disclaimer that says you should get the okay from your doctor before you begin. It's to cover their ass in case there is a medical problem."

"Like if you were to go on a gluten free diet and you were allergic to the crap they put in gluten free bread," I said. Morelli had that problem; it hadn't been pretty.

"Exactly," Rory said, "This is different. Not only does it have the standard ass-covering in it, it clearly states that the diet is designed for people who have a certain body mass index and that if you exceed this, you should consult your doctor and adjust your caloric intake and portion sizes accordingly. It also advises that if your BMI drops below a certain level, or you develop headaches, joint aches, or start to show signs of depression, you are to immediately cease following the diet and seek help from a healthcare provider."

"You think somebody got sick from this and sued DeeDee?" I said.

"It's a revised edition, and there is an entire paged dedicated to the disclaimer, so that's a big yes. I can make a phone call if you'd like."

"The record is sealed; don't you need a court order?" I asked.

"It might not be sealed," Altman said, "Depending on when the suit was filed it's possible it's just not available online yet. It's also possible that it's still public but not on the internet because making it available online could lead to privacy and security problems for someone involved. They tend to keep anything involving children off of the web as well."

"Make your call," Ranger said. Altman got up from the table and walked out onto the pool deck where he pulled out his phone.

"Have you practiced saying all of the ingredients in your Lucky Charms?" Ranger asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Fruit Loops," I said, and he chuckled.

"You scare me sometimes," he said, shaking his head.

Rory came back to the table a few minutes later while I was trying, not too successfully, to get Ranger to eat a pink marshmallow heart.

"Wrongful death suit filed in 2002; the Cliff notes should be in your inbox this afternoon," he said, "How busy are you right now?"

He was addressing Ranger when he asked the question.

"Very," Ranger said.

"But not too busy to put a team on this? We're spread really thin."

"Call my line at the office; you'll get my second. Tell him I said you could have Jigsaw, Alan has worked with him before."

"One of these days you'll introduce me to one of your men and I won't have to spend the next several hours trying to figure out what name is on his birth certificate."

"His name is Tyrell Owens and you're going to understand why he's called Jigsaw when you meet him," Ranger said.

Ranger gave my ass a gentle tap so I would stand up and he could see Rory out. "It's been a pleasure, Stephanie," Rory said.

"Thanks for the help," I said and shook his hand.

He and Ranger went back through the house, and I took my dishes into the kitchen and went back out to the table to try to think of what to do next.

I was sort of at loose ends until I saw the handbags and I had no idea where to go next with Jankowitz. I started packing up our case notes so they were out of sight when Carol arrived. Ranger had skillfully kept her in the living room before but now that the house was opened up for the day, there would be no way she could miss them when she came over. He came back out to the dining room and refreshed my coffee for me as I put the last of everything in the boxes and started rolling up the map. He stared at me while I worked, and he continued to do so until I started carrying the boxes into the den, then he helped me.

"What?" I asked as we went back out to the dining room after dropping off the last of the stuff.

"The dresses make everything more convenient," he said.

"Very true; but don't get too used to them mister, because they are hardly practical with my usual day job," I said.

"What is it going to take to get you to eat a healthy breakfast?" he asked.

"I dunno," I said with a shrug and sat back down at the table, "Food that doesn't taste like the ground would be a good start."

"What if I were to introduce a reward based system?" He asked and spun me away from the table. He planted a hand on either arm of the chair, bending over me, so I had to look up at him. The scraping noise of the metal chair legs on the stone floor would have made me crawl out of my skin if it weren't for the fact that the look he was giving me was probably going to melt my clothes off.

"I could get behind that," I said, "Only there's a problem with your plan."

"What's that?" he asked and kissed me behind the ear. He may have liked the dresses better for their convenience, but he clearly enjoyed the shorts too.

"It doesn't really matter what I eat for breakfast; you'll reward me anyway," I said.

"I could deny you," he said. His words my have been threatening but his actions said otherwise, as he kissed my throat.

"You'd only be denying yourself too, and you're a man who gets what he wants," I said.

"But I do have a lot of self-control, and I enjoy watching you squirm."

"And I know what buttons to press to make you lose that self-control," I said.

He grinned, "That you do," He was about to kiss me again when the world's most annoying doorbell sounded.

"That'll be Carol," I said, "And this is where I wish we had a butler, or Hal back here, because that way she could walk in on us."

Ranger kissed me despite the repeated, and somewhat impatient, ringing of the bell. He left me thoroughly dazed and went to admit Carol.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something," She purred at Ranger, "I did say I was coming by later this morning."

Ranger didn't respond. A few seconds later he walked out onto the deck, carrying one, of a pair of big clear plastic Tupperware containers containing the handbags in their dust bags. Carol was carrying the other one and trailing a little behind so she could blatantly admire Ranger's ass. Ranger brought his over to me and put it down in front of me, "You're the expert on this one, Babe," he said.

"Don't know if you could call me an expert," I said, "But I'm certainly experienced."

I pulled out the first bag from the bin and opened it; I examined the inside and I put it down on the table. I did the same for each bag until I had two piles, one smaller than the other. "It's not as many as I thought, but it proves my theory," I said.

Ranger picked up one of the bags from the smaller pile and looked at the inside lining, "I know a man who is a forgery specialist; if we take these to him, he might know who the artist is."

Carol, who had been staring at me for the last ten minutes, finally spoke up, "Listen, I said Stephie could look at the bags, they are worth a lot of money and I don't want them out of my sight."

"The ones in the smaller pile are worth about $25 maybe $50 on the street," I said, "They are knock-offs."

"What?!" Carol was standing in one of the random acoustically perfect sections of the house, so her shrill vocalization had come out far louder than she intended and it sort of startled all of us. If we decided to keep the house, the first thing I was buying was a shit ton of rugs.

"You're totally wrong about that," she said, now over compensating and whispering fiercely, "I bought those bags myself, in the stores. They are not fakes."

I picked up one of the counterfeit bags, "Look at the stitching. These bags are all supposed to be handmade; even the most talented people can't produce perfectly even stitches, but a sewing machine can. If you look at one of the genuine bags, you'll see the difference. You can feel the difference in the leather too. "

She snatched the knock off Gucci from me and looked at one of the seams, "You know what? I'm not going to put up with this; I've had people with me when I bought every one of these bags, and if you try to tell people that I'm carrying a fake, I'll sue you for slander."

"You can try, but if you give those bags to your lawyer and have an expert verify their authenticity, you're going to have a problem."

"I'm not going to listen to this anymore. Nadia only asked you to look into this because she wanted to have a reason to get close to Carlos. We all know it's a bunch of kids playing pranks and nobody really cares what's happening. Now you're making things up because you know the only reason he turned me down this morning is that he saw you coming down the stairs."

"Even if that was the case..." I said.

"It's not," Ranger said mildly.

"Even if that was the case, it doesn't change the fact that I've bought enough knock offs out of the back of someone's car to know the difference between the real thing and a good fake," I said.

She scooped up a small beaded Versace bag from the table, and held it up "I bought this bag, a month ago, with Cheryl. She'll tell you if you don't believe me. This one I bought with Nadia; I don't even like it, but I bought it because it's limited edition and she wanted it, and she was being a bitch that day, and I know her husband won't let her spend this kind of money on a bag." The bag in question was a pretend Fendi.

"Do you still have the receipt?" I asked.

"Yes and I still have the box, want to see them?" she sneered.

"Try to return it; let's see what happens?" I said.

She started picking up bags by the armful and dumping them into the two bins. She put the lids on the containers, stacked them and picked them up. Credit where it was due, she clearly worked out; I can't imagine either of those buckets were light, and she picked them up without a problem. Then the lid on the bottom container made a cracking sound, and the bin dropped to the floor. "FUCK!" she yelled and began picking everything up again. Ranger and I went to help her, and she glared at us, so we stepped back. She re-stacked the bins and went to the door, only to be stymied when she couldn't get the door to open.

"There's a button that releases the locks..." I started, and she practically snarled at me, before she kicked it, leaving a dusty flip flop print on the wall. She yanked the door open and with that she was gone.

"We might have wanted to handle that a bit more diplomatically," I said as I contemplated the footprint on the wall.

"Sometimes the truth hurts, Babe," Ranger said, "But you're right; we're going to have to look into this differently. Come with me."

I followed him to his office where he sat down on the computer and pulled up a map of Florida, on it were about ten different blips. Some were grayed out, while the others were black. There was a black blip in Key West and he clicked on it; an address popped up, and he copied it down on a notepad and then opened up his web browser. He started an eBay account using the name Susan Martinez and the address he'd written down. He then opened his desk drawer and pulled out a prepaid VISA and put that information down as the billing info.

"Who is Susan Martinez?" I asked.

"An alias of yours who happens to be married to an alias of mine," He said, "She has a degree in sociology; her honors thesis focused on the power of gossip in small towns and the influence it has on individual decision-making paradigms."

"I could write the shit out of a paper like that," I said.

"I'm pretty sure Lester quoted you several times when he wrote it," Ranger said.

"There's actually a paper?" I said.

"There's actually a degree," Ranger said, "Lester fast-tracked it and did it in two years via correspondence. He said it was fun."

"Jesus," I said.

"I don't usually go that far for an alias, but Santos was pissing me off, and it kept him occupied in his spare time," Ranger said, "This is just one of several identities we have for you."

"Why?"

"I like having contingency plans," Ranger said, "Send me the link to Larry's eBay store?"

I did as requested and Ranger pulled up the handbags Larry had for sale.

He scrolled through the bags, and I stopped him at the Fendi shoulder bag. "That one," I said.

"I didn't think that sort of thing was your style," Ranger said. It really wasn't. The bag was a magenta fur with dyed purple crocodile handles. It was gorgeous but the way my life was, someone would steal it or set fire to it, or pour paint on it, or do something else completely unspeakable to it. That's why I kept to simple and cheap.

"That bag is worth about $20,000 when it's real," I said.

The bidding on the purse was already at $2500 and it was being marketed as the genuine article. The pictures even showed the bag with a close up copy of the receipt with the credit card information digitally blacked out. "Is there any way we could have the pictures enhanced to prove that Carol's card made the purchase?"

Ranger nodded his head and emailed the link to Hector, presumably asking him to do what I asked. Then he clicked the "Buy It Now" button and paid $3500 for the knock off bag. He paid another $60 for same day delivery, "Jesus, Ranger!" I said.

"If it pans out, I'll bill Chase, and you get a new purse. If you don't like it; you can give it to Lula or Connie for Christmas," Ranger said, "What time is this party?"

I sent Candice a text, asking her what time we should show up. She hit me back right away with, "Between 4 and 6" and relayed the information to Ranger.

Ranger glanced at the clock on his computer and picked up the land line. "I'll get someone to sit on the safe-house, that way when the parcel gets there; it can be delivered to us immediately."

He was about to dial a number when Hector appeared in the doorway, looking grim. He said something to Ranger that caused his expression to change subtly as well.

"What's going on?"

"Hector has picked up two digital signals transmitting in the area that didn't exist yesterday. He's hacked the signals, and it turns out, someone has planted cameras that are pointed at our front door and at the garage."

"Aww crap," I said, "I was really liking being stalker free."

"On the bright side, a stalker means you're definitely on the right track," Ranger said.

"Maybe you should move the Porsche to Rangeman's garage; it's really pretty, and I would hate to see it blown up," I said. Ranger grinned.

"It's just a car Babe; I can get another one," he said.

"All the same, I don't think I want to drive it until this is over," I said.

Then it occurred to me that this guy was good at digging up secrets, and we didn't know how he was getting his information. Sure the cameras were a good start, but these secrets weren't the sorts of things you would bring up on the street where people might overhear you. That wasn't a problem for me, my life was exceptionally public. I was surprised I wasn't followed by paparazzi; even if I wanted real secrets, I wouldn't be allowed to keep them. The only real, honest to goodness, I've never told anyone, ever, secret was between me, Ranger and kind of Morelli.

With the fight on the boardwalk, if I were trying to dig up dirt on one of us, I would start by trying to figure out the reason for that fight. I would do a google search of our names, and I would start combing through articles. They wouldn't find anything on Ranger, beyond the kidnapping thing and his corporate Bio. But his address was still officially a vacant lot, which anyone could find out, which would be suspicious, and it wouldn't be hard to get rumors about him and learn that pretty much everybody believes that Ranger occasionally kills people for the greater good. And one time, he did it for me and that Joe was the lead investigator for that case.

Ranger stood up abruptly, took my hand and pulled me to the garage where he put me in the passenger seat of the car. He then pulled an electric wand thingie from the trunk, waved it through the car; nothing appeared to happen, and he tossed it back into the trunk. With that, he got into the driver's seat, fired up the silent engine, and we pulled out of the garage. He didn't speak until we were out of Reef Knot altogether.

"Anything I have done that has resulted in a record has been redacted down to articles and prepositions. Pretty much the only people who can get any dirt on me are the President and the Joint Chiefs."

"Ranger, I'm not worried about your military secrets, or your mercenary work; I'm thinking along the lines of a personal job that neither of us ever speaks about."

"When Abruzzi committed suicide, I was in Quebec City, guarding the French Ambassador's wife, while she attended a gallery opening. She's notorious for dodging her security, so naturally she did not know I was part of her detail. However, there is a picture of her in Le Monde, and you can see me in the background looking at an impressionist painting of some goats."

"No, you weren't. You were in my apartment that night, after it was over. You found me terrified in the shower, because I'd found another of Abruzzi's gifts when I got home. You held me and told me you'd taken care of it, and I didn't have to worry about it anymore. You stayed all night and you held my hand when Morelli called me to break the news about the suicide. You asked me if you could kiss me goodbye. It's the only time you've ever asked and I said yes so you would know I didn't hate you. And that's the real reason things were weird between us after and we both know it."

"Who else knows I was in your apartment that night?" Ranger asked.

"Rex," I said, "and I think we can trust him not to squeal."

"Then as far as the world is concerned, I was in Quebec," Ranger said, "Morelli only suspects I was involved, and since you didn't tell him otherwise, we're fine."

"Anyone else involved..." I started, and he cut me off.

"There was no one else involved. The only people who know the truth about that night, are you and me," he said, "I'm very good at this sort of thing, Babe."

I should have been freaked out by that, but I was just reassured, "This is the point of what he's doing. The point is to scare me, put me on edge, have me looking over my shoulder."

"Yes, it is," Ranger said, "So if you have any secrets you'd rather I not find out second hand, you should probably share them now."

"What secrets could I possibly keep from you? You know me so well that you can pinpoint, to the minute, when I'm going to wake up in the morning. Any secrets I have, you've known for years already," I said, "You're the man of mystery, and quite frankly, I don't care what you're hiding. Though you should probably tell me where the cars come from."

He smirked, "Nice try."

"I'll figure it out one day," I said.

"You're going to be very disappointed when you do," Ranger said.

"Oh just tell me! If you get them from Al's chop shop, I'm not going to give a shit."

"I own a Porsche dealership in New York," Ranger said, "I bought it off of an Army buddy with money I made doing mercenary work. The Explorers and Range Rovers are just company cars, acquired the usual way fleet vehicles are," I stared at him wide-eyed and then realized that he was only just, not smiling.

"Oh, you're such a liar!" I said and he laughed. With that, the tension left the car.

"Where are we going? Or are you going to lie about that too?" I asked as he pulled onto the freeway.

"We're just driving," Ranger said, "Partly because the car isn't bugged and we can speak freely here, and partly to see if we have a tail, which we don't."

There was a sudden roar directly behind me as the V8 took over from the electric engine and I thought my heart was going to explode from a combination of being startled and from the vibration of the engine. The freeway was empty, so Ranger flipped a button on the dash that scanned for police radar and put his foot down. A few miles later, a light flashed on the dash, and Ranger brought the car back down to the speed limit as we cruised passed a couple of state troopers with radar guns.

While he drove, I let my mind percolate. Ranger had a solid alibi for the Abruzzi suicide, and everything pointed to it being a suicide, but absolutely nobody involved in that incident, believed it was a suicide and everybody knew Ranger ended that psycho to protect me. I'm sure people speculated about it when they saw us together. It's what I immediately thought of when I was worried about secrets. And what did I have to do when I got freaked out? What did I have to do? I had to talk to my best friend about it. Ranger knew the house was being watched, and he checked the car for listening devices, so I didn't blurt out something where we might be overheard, but who else would do that?

"Did Hector say if they were getting audio as well as video?" I asked.

"He said it was just video," Ranger said, "It would be difficult, from street level, to listen to our conversations remotely. There are triple pane glass windows, and functioning storm shutters that we keep closed. They will block any infrared or parabolic signals. As for the back of the house is concerned, you run into the problem of lack of cover. We'd see a boat if they were within the range of either type of those microphones, and we frequently sweep for bugs. It's safe to talk in the house."

"Then why are we in the car?" I asked.

"Because Hector understands English better than he lets on, and as I said, the only people who know where I really was when Abruzzi died, are sitting in this car," he said.

"If you were going to do what he's doing, what would you do?"

"And I have to be relatively low-tech?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I'd watch the house for a while to see what their patterns were then I'd make entry when I knew they'd be gone for a while, plant some bugs around the house, look around to see if I could find anything obvious, and then I'd wait until something interesting happened."

"Would you worry about the one minute window?"

"Not the first time I entered the house, but the second time, yes," he said, "If done properly, the first time it wouldn't be necessary because nobody would suspect I was in the house."

"So that's probably going to be his second step then; he's going to try to get into the house?" I asked.

"That would be my guess," Ranger said.

The words were barely out of his mouth when his phone vibrated with a text. He looked down at his phone and handed it to me.

"Call Hal and Cal, have them get to the house ASAP," Ranger said.

I looked at the screen, the text was from Rangeman; it was saying that someone was trying to breach the front door. I did as I was told and hung up.

"Where's Hector?" I asked.

"Not there. When he told me about the signals, he also asked to take the truck to pick up some hardware in Ft. Lauderdale, " Ranger said.

"So our bad guy knows that there are three people living in the house?" I said.

"Unlikely, from the position of his cameras it would be difficult to tell who was driving either vehicle. There was no one watching the house when we left, so it's more than likely that he thought we just left in separate vehicles.

"He's not patient, this guy," I said.

"No, he's desperate," Ranger said, "The question is, why? Something you've uncovered has made him exceptionally nervous."

He found an emergency services U-turn area and took it, and he floored the accelerator. We blasted passed the state troopers and they immediately blared their lights and sirens and came after us. Ranger popped a button on the dash and a Radio popped up.

"I thought that was a sunglasses holder," I said.

"You were meant to," Ranger said. He picked up the Mic, and pressed a button. The radio gave off static until we heard, "This is unit Alpha Charlie One Five; We're requesting aerial assistance, we're in pursuit of a black, Porsche... Batmobile. The car looks like the fucking Batmobile, and we're not going to be able to keep up."

"Roger Alpha Charlie. What is your position?" a female dispatcher said.

Ranger clicked the radio broadcast button before she could respond, "Belay that request. Alpha Charlie One Five, this is the Batmobile," Not even Ranger could say that without grinning a little, "Code Romeo Romeo Charlie Mike Romeo Charlie Quebec Delta."

There was silence, then "Please confirm your ID."

"Five, three, seven, four, Delta, Whiskey, eight, five."

"Do you require assistance?"

"Not at this time," Ranger said, "Stand by."

"Your destination?"

"Reef Knot, keep your distance," Ranger said.

"Yes Sir," the State Trooper said, and the car backed off.

"That was very cool," I said, "Try not to look so smug about it."

"It's fun being me sometimes," Ranger said and then he maxed the 918.

We got to the house to find Hal and Cal in the driveway, sans creepy secret stealing bad guy. "Report," Ranger said.

"He'd bugged by the time we got here boss," Hal said, "We've secured the house, but haven't had the opportunity to do anything else yet; you made good time."

"He tried to break the sound barrier," I said. There wasn't a trace of censure in my voice; it had been fucking awesome.

"Sweet," Hal said. I nodded my head emphatically. Ranger was smiling on the inside. He had fun doing that; I know he did.

Ranger went to a tool chest in the garage and pulled out a small flashlight. He closed the garage doors and turned off the light, and then he powered up a flashlight that rivaled the sun for brightness and trained it on the lock.

"He tried to pick it and failed," Ranger said, "He's not very good either."

Ranger flicked the light back on and powered down his pocket supernova. He went back to the tool chest and tossed the flashlight back in and pulled out a gizmo that looked like a hockey puck with a handle and buttons on the back. He held it about half an inch in front of the lock and pressed one of the buttons. The hockey puck slammed into the lock, hard, the bang it made startled me, Ranger was unphased. He let go of the puck and reached into one of his many pockets to produce a small evidence baggy. He opened it and held it under the door lock and pressed another button on his hockey puck, waited for a beat and pulled the puck away. As he did, something small landed neatly into the bag along with what looked like metal shavings.

He closed the baggie put the hockey puck away and motioned for me to follow him out to the front door and we went into the house. He pulled out his phone and dialed. He said something in Spanish, pulled the phone away from his ear as Hector shouted and Ranger disconnected.

"What was all that?" I asked.

"Hector designed and programmed the locks on this house. They are built to look and feel like regular door locks, but they actually operate not too differently from the key fobs at the office. I just fried the one in the garage door with an extremely powerful electromagnet."

"Pretty brave of him to cuss you out for it," I said.

"He didn't; he's not stupid. He was cussing out the idiot who broke his lock pick inside the lock necessitating the use of a powerful magnet to recover the evidence," Ranger said.

Hal and Cal came in the front door. "Cal, take this to Miami for processing," he said and handed the baggie to Cal, "I want it processed, and I want you to contact Bulldog and tell him I want him to have someone sit on safehouse three. We're expecting a delivery and when it arrives, he's to pick it up and we're to be notified immediately. Then tell him I want two teams on the boat. Two sets of eyes on the shoreline and the house at all times. I'm going to want a man in the house whenever we aren't here and I want two men on Stephanie when she leaves the house. One to keep an eye on her wheels, one to keep an eye on her."

"If you're with her, boss?" Cal asked.

"Same rules apply. I don't want someone grabbing her if I decide I need the can," Ranger said.

"Got it, Boss," they said at the same time and both of them left. Ranger and I went into his office and he closed the walls, turned them opaque and powered up the computer.

"The windows are LCD right?" I asked.

"Yes," Ranger said.

"It would just be cool if you could turn them into a big tv screen," I said.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, "You're pretty calm right now."

"I'm used to people breaking into my place; I'm just glad it didn't work for once," I said.

Ranger pulled up the security feed for the cameras around the house and rewound them to fifteen minutes before the attempted breach. The man, and it was definitely a man and not an adolescent boy, was dressed in a security uniform, but he was wearing a ball cap and glasses, and kept his face down. The camera angle on the front door was from above so about all we could make out was that he was white, with a tan. He tried the lock, with his picks, when that didn't work he went around to the garage and tried that way. He was only at the door for a few seconds before he started looking agitated and tried to use another pick to retrieve the broken bit of the pick from the door. When that didn't work he wiped down the doors and took off. Not one clear shot of his face.

"Shit," I said. "So what do we know? He's white, medium build and has access to a security guard's uniform."

"He knew to keep his head down, and not look up. Which means he either knew or expected us to have cameras in place."

"Yesterday, as I was leaving Nadia's house, I felt like I was being watched; it's possible he heard my conversation with Candice and now he knows we've been investigating since we got here."

"It's more than likely," he said, "It's applied pressure and now he's made a mistake and that means he's going to make more."

Ranger checked his watch and began running the biometrics of the man against the security staff, in a computer program and then he picked up his phone, "Who are you calling now?"

"The Stateys to tell them to stand down," he said, "I only wanted them on standby in the event we wanted to make an arrest."

Ranger checked his email and opened a message from someone with the state police and printed an attachment, then he opened another one from the FBI, and another one from the Treasury office, another one from the Military Police and finally one from a branch of the government I'd never heard of before. He waited for the printer to spew out half a forest worth of paper and reached for a pen. "What's all that?"

"The uncool side of getting out of a speeding ticket," Ranger said, "It shouldn't take me more than an hour to fill these out."

"Can I help?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, "Fill in my contact information on each page, wherever it asks for it."

"What should I put for your address, the vacant lot or Haywood?"

"The lot," Ranger said then he looked at me, "Do it in my handwriting."

I froze, "I can't do it in your handwriting," I said, careful not to look up from the paper.

"Liar," Ranger said.

"I'm not lying! That you would think I would devote any time to forging your handwriting is arrogant and conceited and..."

"Babe," Ranger said, amused now, because I was totally lying.

I could also forge his signature as easily as signing my own. That I learned wasn't my fault at all. See the guys at Rangeman like me, and they respect me, and they see me as Ranger's woman, but they also see me like the rookie on the team, which I am, and they see me as a pain in the ass, which I am. So when I fill out a form requesting a search for information, I can wait days or even weeks for them to get to it. Sometimes my rent can't wait for me to wait for information and if Ranger asks for it, it lands on top of the pile.

"Does everybody know I forge your handwriting?" I asked.

"Nope," Ranger said, "I'm not going to tell them."

"I'm getting pretty good. Do you want me to do it in pissed off Ranger, or Paperwork Ranger."

"There's a difference?"

"Yup," I said. I pulled a blank piece of paper from the printer tray and wrote Babe and signed his name in both Paperwork Ranger and Pissed Ranger.

"I'm conflicted about this," he said.

"If any of these are request forms, Pissed Off Ranger gets results a lot quicker than Paperwork Ranger," I suggested.

"No, I mean I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this. I feel like I should be angry, but I'm fucking proud."

"Listen to your instincts; go with the second one," I said.

He chuckled, "Paperwork Ranger is fine."

It only took us 45 minutes to burn through the paperwork; when we were done, we grabbed lunch, and Ranger checked the results of the biometrics, which came up blank. Then he helped Hector install the new locks on the garage door and I took a nap. I woke up at 2 o'clock to start getting ready, I was fresh out of the shower, trying to decide what to wear, when Ranger dropped a package on the bed.

"That was fast," I said.

"FedEx Guy got to the house early," Ranger said. I opened the parcel and pulled out the purse. Everything about it was perfect, perfect to the point that I knew it wasn't a forgery, but still, something about one of the crocodile handles looked a bit off.

"Do you have a magnifying glass?" I asked.

"Do I look like Sherlock Holmes?" Ranger asked.

"Please, you keep a solar flare in the garage, it's not unreasonable to assume you might have some kind of magnifying implement somewhere," I said. I grabbed a hair tie from the nightstand and pulled my wet hair off of my face so it wasn't in my way.

He reached into one of his pockets and produced a small black rectangle and tossed it at me. I pulled on the ends revealing a strong magnifying lens. I held it over the stitching, "Can you toss me one of my bags? A leather one?"

Ranger tossed me my little black evening bag and I looked at the stitching through the lens. It was machine done and not hand stitched like the Fendi was, but that didn't concern me so much as the size of the holes for the thread. They looked too big on the Fendi. I went over them again and that's when I saw the mistake. There was a tiny needle hole next to the only stitch whose hole didn't look like it was stretched.

"Ranger, I think I know what Larry is doing," I said, "I think he's having the bags taken apart to make patterns, then he's having them put back together and then slipped back into his wife's closet."

Ranger walked out of the closet buttoning one of his dress shirts, he had the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and that was all he was wearing. I blanked for a second and then showed him what I meant.

"You think he accidentally sent you the wrong bag?" he said.

"He's going to want it back," I said.

"Yes, he is," Ranger said.

I checked the little black purse to make sure there was nothing in it, and looked at Ranger, "Does this bag have a tracker sewn into it or do I have to grab one from my other bag. I know there are about six in it."

He took the hair elastic out of my hair and put it in the bag. Problem solved. I packed up my bag in the wrapping of the Fendi bag and packed it in the box. "We should put it back the way we found it," I said, "Let them pick it up. That way we can track it back to wherever it's made."

"What makes you think it's not just going to go back to Larry?"

"My gut?" I said.

Ranger walked to the bedroom door and called for a Rangeman I hadn't met yet, his name was Clay. Without opening the door all the way, or leaving the room, Ranger shoved the box through and gave Clay my instructions.

"You could have put that bag back and kept your own," Ranger said.

"Listen, we bought this bag fair and square, and it wasn't stolen property, Larry bought it, well okay Carol bought it, but Larry paid for it. That he sold me a limited addition purse worth $20,000 for less than $4,000, is his problem, why should I give it back?"

"That's my girl," Ranger said. I grinned and got off of the bed to finish getting ready. Ranger had other ideas that involved stealing my towel and making us late for the party.

When we were finished, I opted for a simple yellow maxi dress and my new flip flops. I was tempted to bring the new Fendi, but since it was sort of evidence, I opted out, and went with a little purse that was shaped like a daisy, and shoved my phone, keys and cards into it, and we left. Ranger refused to drive the golf cart again, so we took the Porsche and parked it on the street in front of Candice's house.

Their house had a Morrocan feel to it, with a red clay tile roof, and cream-colored stucco walls. I was seriously obsessed with their driveway which was a checkerboard that alternated between gray cement slabs and golf green quality grass tiles. It was very pretty, but not at all practical if one of your cars was a half-ton pickup truck.

Ranger kept his hand on the small of my back as we walked up the driveway. I pressed the doorbell and instead of the annoying tone that we had, Candice had the chimes from Big Ben. The door swung open a few seconds later, and we came face to face with a man who looked almost exactly like Pierce Brosnan, vintage: Somewhere pre-James Bond but post-Remmington Steele.

"Carlos Manoso," Pierce said, disappointingly lacking the accent, and shook Ranger's hand, "We haven't had the pleasure, but you did some work for my firm a few years ago. I've never met someone who actually exceeds his reputation until now! My name is Drew Moore."

"Nice to meet you," Ranger said, "This is my fiancee Stephanie."

He warmly shook my hand, "A pleasure Stephanie," he said. He looked back into the house and motioned for us to step a bit back on the front step and joined us on the porch closing the door behind him.

"Candice said Roy's finally listened to me and brought someone in," Drew said, "You should know, I know why she's asked you to come to the house, I read the letter and saw the birth control. While I'm pissed that they didn't tell me she went through all of that, I'm not an idiot. Mel's nearly 18; I'm surprised she wasn't on the Pill before that business."

"Did you tell her that you know?" I asked.

"No, this is between Candice and Melissa. I may want to interfere, but if Mel would rather I didn't know, I'm going to let her keep her secret," Drew said.

"Candice told me you went fishing and got home the same time she and Melissa did?" I said.

"Yes and no, we came home after they left because I realized I'd left my wallet in the study," Drew said, "We were gone for maybe an hour and when I went upstairs I saw the note and the Pills. I didn't touch anything, left it in the event we decided to call the police and then I took my son fishing. Then Candice destroyed the letter and hid the pills in her purse."

"What..." I started, and Ranger touched my elbow to interrupt me.

"People are going to wonder why we are loitering here," Ranger said as another cart, containing a group of preteens, pulled into the driveway.

Drew opened the door and said, "The restroom is upstairs just to the right of the study. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to borrow your fiance, I need to know more about that car."

He slipped me a key as I walked into the house.

"Go ahead; it's a hot car," I said.

He was quick on the uptake; I'll give him that. The other good news was that he didn't touch anything, which means he didn't open the case and see the note. I was about to use the key to go into the office, when I heard Candice, at the bottom of the stairs, "I'll be right back! I just need to make sure there's bathroom tissue upstairs; I think I forgot to restock. I don't want to leave Stephanie stranded."

I dropped the key into my purse and went to the door next to the study. When Candice joined me. She pulled out a key ring and opened the office door and waved for me to follow her inside.

"There," she said, pointing at the desk, "I found the pills and the letter centered on the blotter."

Drew's office was immaculate. The walls behind his big cherry pedestal desk were laden with legal texts; his chair was a well used but not worn, burgundy leather, and the only things on his desk were a green banker's lamp and the green leather blotter and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere.

The room was dark, but not imposing. Still, given that we were in Florida, I was surprised by the comfortably formal feel of the place. And the lack of light, it seemed out of place.

"Sorry it's so dark in here; Drew gets migraines if he tries to read in natural light," Candice said nervously.

"It just doesn't seem to fit Florida," I said.

"No, it doesn't," Candice agreed, "When Drew's father died a few years ago, he left everything to him. Drew decided to sell the house and a lot of the contents, but he had the library transferred here almost exactly as it was in Barry's house. The books are at our house in Maine because Drew works a lot from here and needs his reference material here, but the rest is the same."

I went to the bookshelf, and I looked around. Drew was meticulously organized, but the books weren't alphabetized. He had an intriguing system, the most worn books, the ones clearly most frequently used, were directly behind the desk to the left, for ease of reach. The ones he used the least, and looked almost new, were on the top shelves and out of reach. Everything on the desk was perfectly square, not a speck of dust to be seen, there were no nicks anywhere but on the blotter, which looked relatively new as well.

Candice walked to the desk and made a micro adjustment to the blotter. "Sorry, it was driving me crazy," she said, "I told you there wasn't much to see."

"I thought we were late, but I don't hear many other people here," I said.

"The room is soundproofed. Like I said, Drew works from home a lot, and kids aren't exactly quiet," Candice said. She'd visibly relaxed since 'fixing' the blotter.

"Would it be okay if I saw Melissa's room?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I can't tell you what sort of shape it will be in, but I don't see why not."

I followed her down the hallway to the very end, Melissa's room was tidy, but well lived in, her hamper was full, and there were two discarded outfits on the bed. Candice rolled her eyes and started picking things up. Jeez, she'd have a stroke if she saw my room when I was a teenager, hell she'd freak if she saw my bedroom now. Thanks to her apparent OCD, if there had been evidence in here, it was long gone now.

"Thanks for showing me," I said, "We should go downstairs before people wonder where we are."

We walked down the stairs together, and I looked around. The keypad was on the same wall as the front door; a giant plant stood next to it, there was no way you could see it from the street.

"Has the keypad always been there?" I asked.

"No," she said, "When we bought the place, it was over there." She pointed to the wall to the left of the front door, "It was easily visible from the street, and Drew insisted that it was moved the second we moved in."

"Ranger did that with ours too. It's now in a similar position to yours, near the door but not visible from the street," I said, "Most people don't think about the placement of the keypad unless they are in the business. That will endear Drew to Ranger."

"Drew's a criminal lawyer," she explained, "Early in his career, before we met, he got a guy acquitted. The father of the victim firmly believed his client was guilty, broke into Drew's house and put him in the hospital for a month. Since then he's become obsessed with security. If he knew there'd been an intruder, he'd be beside himself."

"Did he get him off on a technicality?" I asked.

"No," she said, "The man was innocent, but the press was convinced he was guilty. Almost none of the evidence pointed to Drew's client, but they arrested him based on a partial license plate and a shaky alibi. Drew proved that there were three other cars in the city that were of similar description to his client's vehicle and had the same partial plates. One of which was reported stolen two blocks from the crime scene on the night of the murder."

"What happened to the father?" I asked.

"He was convicted of attempted murder; he's up for parole soon actually," she said.

We made it out to the backyard where there was a badminton net set up and four kids were playing doubles while an older girl, probably Melissa from her resemblance to Drew, called the game. As for food, there was a cupcake tower designed to look like a volcano, an assortment of chips and salads and a barbecue going. The barbecue was being manned by two men, one was in a crisp shirt and dress slacks (a tie and suit jacket were over the back of a chair nearby) he was drinking a beer and laughing with the other man. The man actually flipping the burgers was in running shorts and an Under Armor t-shirt that fit him like a neon orange skin. He had a decent spray tan, and carefully messy blonde hair.

Candice led us towards, DeeDee and Rhonda who were standing in front of a self service wet bar. DeeDee looked like she needed about twenty hours of sleep and she was smiling and laughing but she kept chewing her thumbnail nervously. With them was an attractive African American man, with a precisely groomed goatee and close cropped hair. He had his arm draped comfortably around Rhonda as he spoke to DeeDee. As we approached, he lazily checked me out and smiled warmly, drawing DeeDee and Rhonda's attention to us.

"You of course know DeeDee and Rhonda, but I don't think you've met Rhonda's husband have you?" Candice asked.

"I haven't had the pleasure," I said.

He offered me his hand, "Brett Carter."

"Stephanie Plum," I said and shook his hand. I thought I imagined it, but it seemed to me that some of the smile left his eyes.

"You're the one the girls have been talking nonstop about!" he said, "Aren't a bunch of random pranks a bit below your paygrade?"

"Not job's too small," I said with a smile, "I have to keep busy while Ranger's working, right?"

"Absolutely," he said, and his smile changed again, it was warm and maybe a little too friendly, "But wouldn't you want to do something more _fun_ on your vacation?"

Jeezus, what was with these people?! I wanted to shout 'YOU'RE MARRIED!' but since we'd already alienated one source of information today, I thought it would be a bad idea to alienate another. I was saved from having to think of a response because I was almost bowled over by Nadia.

"You'll never guess who flew in to surprise me today!" she said as she snagged my arm to catch her balance. Nadia was, clearly well lubed again. She needed help and a hobby I thought. Today she was wearing a white tank top and baby pink linen pants. She was careful when she came running up to me, to rest her hand breathlessly on a string of pink pearls around her neck. Since she'd run all of about fifteen feet, I doubted she was actually winded and just wanted me to notice the new jewelry.

"No idea," I said. I think she forgot that I'd only met her a few days ago and that I hardly know anyone here...officially.

"Liam!" She said with a laugh, "And he came bearing gifts!"

"Liam?" I looked at DeeDee for clarification.

"You idiot, you've never told her your husband's name!" DeeDee laughed, "I bet you don't know her last name either do you?" she said to me.

"Actually no," I said. Of course I knew her last name, but she'd never given it to me, so I had to lie.

"Nadia doesn't believe in giving last names, because she's afraid someone is going to mistake her for her mother in law," Candice said.

"The woman is absolutely hateful, and you would too if you had to spend Christmas with her. She's Liam's mother and he avoids her at all costs too." Nadia waved her off, "Whatever, come, meet Liam and Richard. Richard is DeeDee's husband." She took my hand and dragged me towards the barbecue, the others in tow.

"Liam, Ricky, meet Stephie!" She said. Liam looked at me and rolled his eyes, but stuck out his hand for me to shake.

"Stephanie right?" he said, "You'll have to forgive my wife. She's so obsessed with making everyone believe that she's less than forty-five, that she's taken to infantilizing everyone's name. She thinks it will make her seem young and hip."

"LIAM!" Nadia squealed with laughter and slapped her husband playfully on the arm. She turned to me, positively beaming with happiness and rum, "I am not forty-five! I'm only thirty-nine; he just likes to tease me because every woman over forty says she's thirty-nine."

The man I figured must be Richard, shook my hand, "Hi, DeeDee has told me all about you, call me Rick." He said.

"Tell me your fiance calls himself Rick, too?" Nadia said.

"He usually goes by Ranger," I said.

Liam raised both of his eyebrows, "He's that Carlos Manoso?"

"I didn't realize he was so famous," I said with a laugh.

"My brother is in the Army," Liam said.

"Ah," I said, "That makes sense now."

"Why?" Nadia asked.

"Ranger was Special Forces, and he's got a bit of a rep," I said.

"Speak of the devil," Nadia said. She stood on her toes and waved to the back door where Ranger and Drew were coming to join the party, "What was keeping them?"

"Ranger has a new car; it's been drawing a lot of attention," I said.

"What did he get?" Liam asked.

"A Porsche 918," I said. The effect of those words was immediate. Liam whistled appreciatively, but Richard, who was about six foot four, suddenly made all of that six foot four inches, very obvious and his chest inflated like a balloon and Brett suddenly had a burning desire to watch the Badminton. When Ranger made it to the Barbecue, he shook hands with both remaining men. Liam was pleasant, but assessing the way alpha males are. Richard clearly flexed his pecs before he shook Ranger's hand, the way wannabe almost alpha males do. Liam looked amused; Ranger didn't give a shit.

Ranger put a proprietary hand on the small of my back while the men talked about their various businesses and then Liam got a phone call and excused himself.

"It is good to see another athlete here," Richard said, "Most of these men only go to the gym so they can look good in a suit; they have no desire to improve themselves and would fall over after jogging up a flight of stairs. How often do you workout?"

"I try to get a run in every day," Ranger said.

"Like what? Ten miles?"

"Usually just five," Ranger said.

"You should aim for ten, you'd be amazed how much it helps with everything else."

Yeah, Ranger was leaving out that the five-mile run was followed by either an hour of weight training or an hour of sparring. Then, of course, when I was sleeping over, all of that was usually followed by a little more cardio, where frankly, it's morning, he's doing all of the work because I'm awake enough to be interactive and appreciative, but not enough to take the driver's seat. Then if the day didn't involve some kind of extremely physical take down, he required another round in the gym to burn off restless energy and maybe even a second run.

"What program do you follow?" Rick asked.

"He's former special forces Rick; he probably follows whatever the hell training regime they use," Candice said.

Mercifully Ranger's phone rang, and he answered it, with his customary "Yo," and then hung up two seconds later, "Babe, we have to go."

"What?!" Nadia exclaimed, "You only just got here, and Cheryl and Carol aren't even here yet!"

"Sorry," I said, with a shrug, "That phone rules our lives."

"Well, you don't have to go too, do you?" DeeDee asked, seeming genuinely close to tears at the thought of me leaving, "If it's because you need a ride home, I can take you later. We're all used to our husbands running off at a moment's notice; we'll take good care of you while he's gone. Nadia said he doesn't like it when you're alone, I can stay with you until he gets back if you want."

I looked at Ranger to see how he wanted to play this one. DeeDee clearly wanted to talk about the break-in at her place, she might have important information to relay.

He handed me his phone and I looked at the screen, on it was the BabeTv screen and one of my trackers was on the move. Dammit. "That's really generous of you, but this is one of my cases and I have to go. Ranger doesn't have the authority to do the apprehension without me there."

Liam joined the group again, "One of your cases? Have I missed something?"

"Oh didn't I tell you?" Nadia said, "Stephie and Ranger met on the job; she's a bounty hunter and a private eye!"

"Licensed?" Liam asked.

"Yes," Ranger said. I knew I was a licensed BEA I didn't realize I was formally a PI. Ranger had a habit of obtaining credentials for me without informing me until well after the fact. I didn't know I had a license to carry concealed until like six months ago.

"She works for you?" Liam asked.

"No, but I do contract work for her cousin, who is her employer," Ranger said.

"Why are you getting calls about her cases then?" Liam asked. Ranger smirked.

"In exchange for the use of my men and my resources, she occasionally moonlights for me," Ranger said.

"She had a lead that a skip of hers was hiding out in our neck of the woods," Nadia said, "Can you believe it? He's worth a fortune, not only that, but he's somehow connected to the Mafia!"

"Is he now?" Drew said with a laugh, "That sounds like something out of a movie!"

"A little too like it, unfortunately, the lead turned out to be a dud, both leads did. Day wasted," I said a little impatiently, "Sorry, we do have to get a move on."

We said a couple of quick goodbyes and made our way to the car. I waited until we were on our way before I asked.

"Where is it headed?"

"Miami," Ranger said. We pulled into the garage and quickly jogged up the stairs to change out of our garden party clothes and into work clothes. I didn't even bother attempting to deal with my hair until we were in the car, speeding towards Miami.

Ranger overtook the dot on the interstate, and took me to a nondescript glass office building, somewhere near the airport and fobbed his way into its parking garage. The elevator doors were being held open by a man in Rangeman black. He was about my height, slender but wiry and had a huge scar running diagonally across his left eye. Rather than looking grotesque, the scar actually made him look rather rakish.

"Bulldog, Stephanie; Babe, this is Bulldog. He's my second here in Miami."

"Hey," I said.

"Heard a lot about you," He said, "Not from the boss of course, but from Tank." Bulldog, rather stereotypically, was British. His accent was more Daniel Craig than Bob Hoskins, but he was definitely not a gentleman. It was too soon to tell if he was a spy.

"Tank speaks less than Ranger does," I said.

"The trick to opening Tank up is to feed him, Sangria; then you can't shut him up," Bulldog said.

"I'll tell Lula," I said, and he grinned. The elevator doors pinged open again, and we could have been stepping out onto five at Haywood. It looked exactly the same. And like at Haywood, there was a distinct change in air pressure when the boss stepped onto the floor.

"Report," Ranger barked. Bulldog's easy demeanor changed to businesslike and he walked to the monitors closest to the elevators and pulled up a screen.

"He showed up at the house before we did and our cameras picked him up. He made entry using a bump key, did a thorough search of the house without spotting our cameras, or making any sort of mess. Then he staked out the house, waiting for the delivery truck." he said, "We acquired a FedEx Van and a Uniform..."

"Define 'acquired,', " Ranger said.

"Panzer's brother is a Mechanic for FedEx. He loaned us a small van, and uniform," Bulldog said. Ranger nodded his acceptance of this explanation; he probably would have had the same reaction if they had boosted it. "We delivered the package. He waited until we left, picked it up and tossed it in the back of his car. He's been making slow progress back to Miami. Panzer's on him, keeping a discrete distance."

"What's his ETA to the city?" Ranger asked.

"About fifteen minutes," Bulldog said.

"As soon as he gets here, I want you to use the pursuit algorithms to predict his likely destination. I want to be set up at his destination before he arrives."

"You can do that?" I asked incredulously.

"With a degree of accuracy," Ranger said.

"Are you sure you're not Batman?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him speculatively. I know I teased him about it, but today? He'd done a lot of extremely Batmanesque things. This was sort of the icing on the cake. I heard one of the men suppress a snicker and Bulldog was doing his damnedest not to smile. Right, they weren't used to my smartass comments like the Trenton boys were. They would learn. Ranger ignored me the way he always did in situations like these.

"Do we have an ID on the driver?" Ranger asked.

"You're going to like this, Boss," Bulldog said, "It's Pierre LaPorte."

"Pierre LaPorte?" I said, "Isn't that Tank's real name?"

Ranger grinned, "Yes, yes it is."

 ** _AN: Hi, me again! Readers choice! Short chapter that I can have up, sometime today or tomorrow, or a long Chapter I'll probably get to you by Thursday...Which would be fitting..._**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: As requested, the short chapter. All mistakes are mine, everything else belongs to Janet.**

Ranger was highly entertained when we got into the truck, and he remained that way until we were parked on a rise that overlooked a warehouse parking lot.

"What's his ETA?" Ranger said into the radio.

"He's made a stop at Taco Bell, and it looks like he's ordered half the menu." The voice on the other end of the radio was barely above a whisper, and a bit high, but definitely male, "It looks like he's waiting in the lot for something."

"Does it look like he's doing a drop?" Ranger said.

"It looks like he doing a joint," the voice said, "And no it's not a drop; a couple of pros have shown up."

"Either he's going to be done in two minutes, or we're going to be here a while," Ranger said, "It's really going to depend on what's in the joint besides weed." He put the mic back on the dash and settled back to wait.

"RANGER!" I yelled.

"Something bothering you?" Ranger asked, his eyes trained on the warehouse.

"PIERRE LAPORTE!? WE'RE STAKING OUT TANK?!"

"You held off a lot longer than I thought you would," Ranger said.

After dropping the bomb that Pierre LaPorte was the man we were looking for, he didn't elaborate and then basically had us arm for war. Before we got into the truck with like fifty different men as backup in other cars, and one dude tailing Tank(!?), he'd been too busy strategizing to tell me what the fuck was going on. He sent me up to the apartment to get a me-sized vest from his closet and gun he kept for me in the safe. I was a little diverted by the picture of us on the nightstand and looked at it for a little bit and then realized, Ranger had stuff for me in the truck already, and he'd totally sent me upstairs to get me out of the way.

"May I remind you that I'm carrying a gun, and at your insistence, it's loaded?"

"You wouldn't shoot me," he said.

"Not in anything important, but I would also like to draw your attention to the fact that I've shot off people's toes when they've pissed me off," I said.

"You've shot toes off by accident," Ranger said.

"RANGER!"

"Pierre LaPorte is the reason Tank doesn't go by his name. He doesn't like to be mistaken for this particular LaPorte. LaPorte is mostly used as a fence and sometimes acts as an errand boy for those who have bigger balls than he does. He's a perpetual fuck up, and people would stop using him, except his father runs a shipping company that specializes in transporting rare art and antiquities and Pierre uses his father's legitimate business to run his personal smuggling enterprise, and he's really fucking good at it."

"Any idea who he's working with now?" I asked.

"No idea. Everybody uses Pierre at one point or another because even though he's a fuck up, he's only a fuck up ten percent of the time. When he's on his game, he's good, really good; it's just that when he does inevitably fuck up, it's a big fuck up," Ranger said.

"You could have just said that, like two hours ago," I groused.

"You've got to look for opportunities for entertainment wherever you can find them," Ranger said. He reached for the radio and clicked it, "SitRep."

"He needs to get his suspension looked at," the voice said, sounding bored.

"Are we even sure we're looking at the right building?" I asked.

"Yup," Ranger said.

"Because you've developed a mathematical equation that allows you to see into the future?"

"Because that building belongs to a holding company owned by his father," Ranger said.

"And your math found that?"

"No, the equation told us he was probably heading to the docks, using our knowledge or LaPorte we looked for anything that might be associated with his father."

"Oh."

"Any more questions?" He asked, his lips twitching. I was about to get mad about the fact that he thought my anger was funny. And then I remembered what happened the last time I accused him of thinking I was cute when I was pissed, and I had a mild hot flash. He actually smiled then and then settled in for the wait.

I looked out the window for a while, aside from the occasional SitRep, which informed us of a lot of interesting things, like marathon man did another joint, one of the pros did a run for more food and made a call for backup. As for our updates? Not a lot was going on at the warehouse. Nothing at all was going on at the warehouse.

I really hate stakeouts. I get why you have to do them, but they get old really fast; especially when your partner has no problem going into a zen-like trance. So you're left with your own thoughts, but I wasn't digging that right now. There was too much swirling around in my head, and if I worried about DeeDee or Candice's strange behavior, I might miss something important. So I tried to engage Ranger in conversation instead.

"You keep a picture of us in your apartment here," I said.

"No I don't," Ranger said.

"I saw it, Ranger," I said dryly. It was a picture taken after one of my many car fires, there's something questionable in my hair, Ranger's picking spaghetti off my shoulder and I only have half an eyebrow on the left side. I'm singed and dirty, and Ranger is pristine and gorgeous, and sort of smiling. You can tell in the picture I'm trying to be pissed off, but something has struck me as funny and I'm smiling against my will. If I remember correctly it was Ranger's reaction to that particular fiasco. It's not the most flattering picture of me, but it pretty much sums up our relationship.

"I keep a picture of us in my go bag, the frame stays in the apartment," Ranger said, "That picture has been some pretty fucked up places."

"It's in excellent shape for traveling around a lot," I said.

"Ella laminated it," Ranger said.

"Of course, she did," I said with a laugh.

I checked my watch for the time; we'd been sitting here for about two hours while LaPorte had an orgy in the back of his Mercedes. How had nobody complained?

"Tank took the picture," Ranger said, "Ella laminated it and put it in my Go Bag before I left to do a contract the Army deemed a suicide mission."

"A what?! Why?!"

"It's not what you think, it just means that using conventional tactics, your odds of survival are less than ten percent. I wasn't going to use conventional methods. I didn't know she'd packed the picture, and I found it in the bag while I was preparing to leave the base, and I put it in my pocket. Things went sideways, I spent a few weeks in a hole, pulled out only for interrogations. One of my interrogators found the picture and used it during one of our sessions. He thought it would be a good idea to threaten you to get me to talk."

"Uh-oh," I said, "I'm guessing things didn't go well for him after that?"

"No, they didn't," Ranger said, "It pissed me off enough to get my shit together."

"So you take that picture with you everywhere now?"

"More or less," he said. He leaned forward and grabbed the Mic for another sit rep. The first team of pros had tapped out and the second team was up.

"Oh my god how long can he possibly take?" I yelled in exasperation.

"He's French," Ranger said with a shrug; as if that explained everything.

Another twenty minutes of silence and I started drumming my fingers on the dash. That kept me occupied for about three and a half minutes before I was going stir crazy. So I grabbed Ranger's phone and checked his email to see if Rory had emailed him yet. No. Then I checked my email. Most of it was just stuff asking me if I wanted a bigger dick. There was an email from Morelli asking me how the lunch with Nicky went, so I replied to that. I took my time about it, and it was a bit verbose. Joe responded two minutes later.

-You're on a stake out aren't you.

The period wasn't a typo; it was a statement, not a question. I yawned and went back to drumming my nails on the dash. When I started to hum, Ranger reached his breaking point and hauled me across the front of the truck, shoved his hand up my shirt, his tongue down my throat and proceeded to kiss me stupid.

The makeout session was just starting to get a little out of control, and my pants were magically unbuttoned when Ranger, just as suddenly as he started, put me back on my side of the truck, picked up a pair of binoculars, and reached for his radio. "Any signs that LaPorte is slowing down?"

"No boss," the voice said.

"Let me know if he gets a call in the next thirty seconds," Ranger said.

In the next thirty seconds, the radio crackled. "Don't know if he got a call, but two of the pros just got out of the back of the Merc, and the rocking has stopped. Nevermind it's going again, but it looks like he's finishing up."

"All teams to our location. Panzer, you tell me the second LaPorte gets underway," Ranger said, "Then I want you to get on the horn to Altman and tell him that we're dealing with Stanley Mallory, and I'm going to need the paperwork."

"Shit," the voice radioed back.

"Gomez, I want heat signatures, I need to know how many bodies we're dealing with," Ranger said. Then he got out of the truck as vehicles started pulling up to our position. I scrambled out after him. The floor plans for the warehouse were laid out on the hood of the truck and the weather I'd been worried about this morning was starting to roll in.

His email dinged, and he handed me his phone without looking at it. It was a warrant for the arrest of Stanley Mallory. He was wanted on a lot of things, and our little forgery operation was the least of his worries. Stanley Mallory (aka Fat Stanley) was wanted for, among other things, major art theft, counterfeiting, forgery, racketeering, rape, robbery, murder and a whole slew of other crimes.

The phone rang in my hand; it was Altman, so I answered it, "Stephanie Plum."

"You're with Manoso?" Rory asked.

"I am," I said.

"Tell him we're sending you back up. A lot of back up. We're not letting him get away this time, and Manoso is authorized to use whatever means necessary to bring him in."

I relayed the message to Ranger. He nodded and I told Altman, who then promptly disconnected. Ranger's men were falling out, and I had missed what the plan was while I was on the phone to Altman, "I assume you want me in the car, out of the way?"

"Nope, you have work to do, you'll be coming in with me," he said.

"What am I getting into?" I asked, now feeling more than a little like throwing up.

"A year ago Altman asked Rangeman to start quietly gathering evidence against Stanley. Fat Stan has people everywhere, and while Altman was rooting out the moles in his department, we found enough solid evidence against him to put him away for two hundred and fifty years if he serves the sentences concurrently. If I bust him, and he thinks he's being nailed for a small time forgery operation, and I've got a fucking army with me, he's going to come relatively quietly. You're going to help me do that. And we're going to kill two birds with one stone."

"How are we going to do that?"

"You're going to question him about the knock off handbags," Ranger said.

"What makes you think he's going to talk?" I asked.

"You'll see, but the short answer is that he's arrogant," Ranger said.

"LaPorte is on the move, our ETA is ten minutes," Panzer said over the radio.

"We're going to let LaPorte get inside first; then we're going to make entry, you're going to follow my lead, and you're going to stay right behind me unless I say otherwise. If anyone approaches you, and he's not Rangeman or wearing something that identifies them as a Federal agent, you are to shoot them. They do not just want to talk."

"Okay," I said with a gulp.

"You are going to want to underestimate Fat Stanley when you see him. It's one of his biggest strengths. Whatever you do, don't. He's got an IQ north of 160, he's one of the most talented forgers in the world and can work in any medium. He's also fucking vicious and was probably born entirely without a conscience. He once drugged an enemy of his with a paralytic drug, wired him to a frame and over the course of a month, kept him alive with a feeding tube and an oxygen tank as Stanley slowly encased him in clay and turned him into a perfect clay reproduction of Michelangelo's David. He made sure he was completely covered before he removed first the feeding tube and then the oxygen and halved the dose of the paralytic so his victim could scream."

"Holy crap."

"Yeah, then he sold the statue to the man's wife. He was missing for three years until some movers accidentally knocked over the statue and it shattered." Ranger said.

I really wanted to throw up now, "Why the hell are you smiling?" I asked.

"This is going to be fun. Altman put me on this because Stanley has a strong sense of self-preservation and every time we've tangled in the past, it's not worked out for him."

We got into the truck and waited until we saw LaPorte's Mercedes pull up in front of the warehouse, then we drove from our vantage point and parked directly behind the Merc.

Ranger and I got out of the car and kept out of the light of the street lights until we made the entrance. As we drew closer we heard voices.

"I'm doing this because he has access to some eighteenth-century paints and sixteenth-century canvas that I happen to need. If we get caught because you can't tell the difference between the genuine article and a knock off, I am not going to be pleased," Stanley said. His voice was a cross somewhere between Stewie Griffen and Hannibal Lector.

"I got the bag back, it's in the box, it never left their front step. I'll take the knock off out there tomorrow; they won't know the difference," LaPorte said. His voice was a startling contrast to Stanley's, only the slightest trace of a French accent, but rich and deep, and caressing.

Ranger pushed the door open silently and we moved inside.

Ranger raised his gun and chambered a round. Stanley froze and then let out a sigh before he raised his hands and turned to face us. There was a flash of recognition when he saw Ranger and his face lit into an enormous smile that failed to reach a pair of very scary, very pale, blue eyes.

"I don't care how useful you are Pierre; you're dead," Stanley said, "Hello, Ranger."

Ranger was right, I wanted to underestimate Stanley, and was stunned by how fucking gorgeous LaPorte was. LaPorte was built like a soccer player, had a full sensuous mouth, blonde hair that looked angelic and enough five o'clock shadow to make him seem just a little bit dangerous. Stanley, on the other hand, was a buck twenty, six feet tall and looked like Carrot top if he'd been cast in a rap video. He wore gold chains, a white silk track suit, and high top sneakers that had the laces undone.

"Stanley," Ranger said with a nod of greeting, "I'm going to need some information from you."

"In exchange for what? That gorgeous creature behind you?" Stanley said, "Because otherwise I'm not interested, and you're outnumbered."

"Oh you'll be interested in what I have to offer," Ranger said.

"Will I now? I'm intrigued; what did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking you give me information and in exchange, you get to keep your hands," Ranger said. About ten different red dots appeared, aimed at both of Stanley's hands. Stanley's only reaction was to cast his eyes heavenward and wave his men back.

"What do you need to know?" Stanley asked with an exasperated sigh.

"We know you're working with a man named Larry Ratcliffe," Ranger said, "I want the details of the operation."

"Larry brings me a high-end bag, I take the bag apart, create a pattern, source cheaper materials, give them the formulas for the dyes and he puts together knock offs and sells them as the real thing to women on eBay who can't afford the real thing so wouldn't know the difference.''

"I spotted the fakes in under ten seconds," I said.

"That's because it takes quality to know quality, darling. Besides, I only make the templates; I don't actually make the bags. You wouldn't know the difference if _I_ made them," Stanley said, "He has a factory full of illegals doing the sewing. You know the sort, the kind that are trying to pay for their passage over by working for pennies a day."

"Why are there fakes in the wife's closet?" I asked.,

"Latest batch to go up on eBay," Stanley said, "He borrows the bag to make the template, which takes me about a day, then he puts it back. Once he's made a few hundred copies, he switches out a fake for the real deal, in order to take pictures."

"Why the hell doesn't he do that when he takes the bags in the first place?"

"Who the fuck knows?" Stanley said with a shrug, "I'm just the artist, I'm not going to tell him how to run his business."

"Who else is involved?" Ranger asked.

"Just Larry," Stanley said, "Pierre here runs the shipping end of the eBay store. Which he's quite naturally fucked up; as usual."

"How do I know you are telling the truth?" I asked.

"I am an artist, which means I appreciate the truth that's found in beauty. It is something that needs to be respected, and you don't lie to something you respect," Stanley said. The look he gave me as he ran his eyes over me, was fucking creepy and it was intense. He was sizing me up, and I had no doubt that he was more than capable of accurately picturing me naked, and I felt very exposed. I knew what Ranger meant about not underestimating him. I no longer noticed his ridiculous appearance, and he was scaring the hell out of me.

"Has anyone else come looking for information?" Ranger asked. Stanley lazily turned his attention back to Ranger and gave him the same assessing look he'd given me. Ranger didn't look freaked out by it; he looked amused. He cocked an eyebrow as if to say, "Nice try."

Stanley smiled and then sighed dramatically before answering the question.

"Nobody has spoken to me." Stanley said, "But Larry was followed here about a month ago. I didn't tell him he had a tail; I figured if he was too stupid to pick it up, he deserved to be caught. It is the most tedious work I've ever done, but Larry used to have quite a large supply of textiles that I find useful in my trade. I was going to exhaust said supply before I took my business elsewhere, but I see that it would be wise to end our partnership a touch early."

"Did you get a good look at the man following him?" I asked, "Could you describe him?"

"Why describe him when I can draw him for you? Will you shoot me if I go for my sketch pad?" he asked. He pointed to a pad and some charcoal pencils sitting on a table five feet to his left. Ranger motioned for me to go get it for him. I handed both to Stanley, and he grabbed Pierre by the scruff and used him as a desk, as he began to draw.

"You have good taste Ranger, though I always suspected that about you. You seem like a man who knows how to appreciate the finer things, and your fiancee is no exception," he said.

"I'm flattered," I said flatly and rolled my eyes before I took a step out of his reach.

"Darling, you walk like a woman who knows how to sprint in heels; you have the perfect blend of classic Hungarian and classic Italian features; you have the fire of a woman born in New Jersey, and you're clever enough for him. Sure you're uncomfortable with a gun, but you're a natural shot and not afraid to use it if you have to because you have strong survival instincts..."

"And the ability to see passed the bullshit of someone trying to fuck with my head," I said.

"No, I don't believe you do fall for a lot of bullshit do you." Stanley said, turning his head so that his creepy gaze held mine, his voice dropped an octave and he sounded more like Lector now, "I like her, I wholly approve. But then I approve of anything of obvious high value."

Ranger didn't say anything; though if I were Stanley, I'd probably pee my pants because of the way Ranger's eyes hardened. Stanley finished his drawing, tore the page off and tossed the sketch pad across the floor. He handed me the picture, and I shoved it into my pocket without looking at it, before I retreated to Ranger's side. Ranger waited until I was back behind him before he rapidly fired his gun three times, twice to disarm the two goons and then his third shot took out the giant diamond stud in Stanley's ear. The blood sprayed LaPorte in the face, and Pierre hit the dirt in a dead faint.

"What the fuck Ranger?!" Stanley screamed, clutching his ear.

"I don't like threats," Ranger said, "I especially don't like threats against her."

"On the bright side," I said, "Tape that up and you'll look just like Van Gough. He was a red head too, right?"

Ranger grinned, as I leveled my gun at Stanley and he moved in to slap the cuffs on him. I lowered my weapon just as the FBI and Rangeman burst through the doors in response to the shots fired.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Hope you like it, and seriously, thank you for all of the love! Anything familiar belongs to Janet; I'm just playing.**

After that, everything was pretty much chaos. Ranger wasn't shooting to kill when he took out the guards, so they needed ambulances. Stan was calmly discussing with the paramedic looking at his ear that what Ranger did was police brutality. Which was actually a bit of a problem for Stan, since Ranger had been authorized to use whatever was necessary to bring Stanley in, so it was unclear if shooting off his ear was actually breaking the law and the feds were inclined to believe it wasn't. Also, Ranger wasn't a cop; which made things even grayer. When I worried about it, Ranger informed me that Rory would simply have more paperwork to do and not to lose any sleep over it. He wasn't going to.

Then we had to be debriefed, which was interesting. They wanted to know why we were there in the first place; then they wanted all the information we had on Larry, who was going to have a very bad day the next day. When I was finished my debrief, which took a million years, it was Ranger's turn, and I had a feeling that his was going to take longer.

Rory put me in his office, so I could watch TV and relax while I waited. I opted out of the TV and instead pulled out the drawing Stanley had done. I was actually impressed; it was just a sketch but unlike most police sketches, the face I was looking at didn't look lifeless. Stanley made this man look like a guy who'd been on a stakeout for a while; sort of numb but still sorta quasi-alert. He was wearing a Marlin's baseball cap with his sunglasses on the bill, and I dunno why Stanley drew him like this, but he was holding a sad looking sandwich. His face was a little round, but he wasn't fat, and he was definitely Caucasian, and at the time Stanley saw him, he was two days past needing a shave. I had no idea who he was, but I was fairly confident that if I saw him in the street, I'd recognize him, which wasn't always true of police sketches.

How we were going to find him, I had no idea, but if I knew Ranger at all, he had something up his sleeve. I flopped on Rory's sofa, so the blood didn't have to work quite so hard to get to my brain and lay there taking stock of what we knew.

We had at least ten confirmed break-ins, and they were all connected through a group of friends, most of whom I'd now met. They lived all over the resort, and when we'd looked at them, on the map, there appeared to be no pattern to the crimes. They all had secrets because let's face it, we all have skeletons, and somehow he got his hands on that information. We knew that he was using cameras to track their movements, and based on the placement of keypad in Candice's house, he had their codes somehow.

Then there was Candice and her relationship with Drew. Drew was charming; he seemed very understanding. Exceptionally so. They both wanted me to see in the office, but there was nothing there, and Candice had been agitated the whole time we were in the room. At first I thought might be a little OCD, but she was merely annoyed by the "mess" in Melissa's room. Was she not supposed to go into Drew's office? Or was she just afraid he'd wonder what we were doing in there, and she didn't want to lie? And they were married for Chrissake; why the hell weren't they talking to each other?

Fuck, this wasn't going anywhere, every time I found an answer, I found fifty more questions. My cell rang and I looked down, it was Morelli.

"Hi," I said. I might have said it a little more aggressively than the situation warranted.

"Bad day?" Morelli asked.

"Are you calling to chat?" I asked.

"No, it's work related. Nicky is up to something; it's more than just his daughter, but I think it's a recent development," Morelli said, "Is there anything else you are working on that's mob related? Besides Jankowitz?"

"Oh, probably," I said, exasperated, "It's been that kind of week."

"I don't suppose you want to elaborate on that?"

"I don't know if I'm allowed," I said, "As of this point, the only thing mob related, that I'm aware of, is Jankowitz. I'll let you know if something else pops up."

"I thought you were doing a security audit?" Morelli said.

"We are," I said with a sigh, "Hey, you're a detective."

"Nice of you to notice," Morelli said wryly.

"You do a lot of undercover stuff; I need some advice," I said.

"Where's Ranger?"

"Being debriefed about a thing we did," I said.

"Okay, why?" Joe said, "You know what? I don't care what it is unless you're in trouble or under arrest. Are you either of those things?"

"Nope."

"What's you're problem?"

"I'm supposed to get close to people, that's not the problem," I said.

"You're getting caught up in their personal lives," Morelli said.

"Yes," I said, "And I kind of need to be for the case. And every time I find an answer, fifty more questions pop up."

"Forget about motive, forget about the people, forget all of your questions for the moment. Take your timeline, take your hard evidence, and look at alibis and go through it all. You're going to find you have more than you think you do. You may find your answer there. If not, go back to your questions, but when you do, ask yourself if the question is actually relevant, or if finding the answer will simply satisfy your curiosity. Start with the relevant questions and if you don't have your answers there, go to the curiosity questions; they've piqued your interest for a reason."

"Is that what everyone does?" I asked.

"I can't speak for anyone else, but that's what I do," Joe said. There was a long awkward pause. It was strange, we weren't fighting, we were having a conversation, he was giving advice without being condescending, and he'd called just to give me heads up. When we were together, getting anything from him was like pulling teeth, and forget asking for advice.

"Why is it easy to talk to you?" Joe asked, "I should be pissed; this shouldn't be easy."

"It's freaking me out a bit too," I said.

"Yeah," he said, "Watch your back, Cupcake."

"Thanks," I said, and we hung up. The door to Rory's office opened fifteen minutes later, give or take, and Ranger came in.

"Ready to go?" he asked. .

"Yes," I said, "Morelli called; Nicky is up to something, no idea what, but it's new."

"That could be a complication," Ranger said.

"Yep."

"He have anything else to say?" I relayed the conversation.

"It's good advice," Ranger said. I moved to get up and the paper crinkled in my pocket.

"Oh by the way, do you know this guy?" I asked and handed him Stanley's drawing.

"Nope," Ranger said, "But it's a good image, we can run it through facial recognition software when we get back to the office."

"Can we go back to the house tonight?" I asked, "Or are you too fried to drive?"

"I'm fine. Any particular reason you want to go back to the house?"

"I'm going to crash pretty soon, when I wake up, I don't want to have to sit in the car for an hour before I can do anything useful. If you need to be here, I'll deal."

"I have no problem going back to the house," he said. He looked down at the picture in his hand again, "He's good. I'm willing to bet that if we restrict our search parameters to anyone with a P.I.'s license, we'll get our answers withing a few hours, instead of days."

"Why do you say that?"

"Stanley has captured the bored as fuck on a stakeout look, perfectly," Ranger said.

"I was thinking the same thing," I looked at the picture again, "He looks like he's at the point where he's wondering if the paycheck is big enough to warrant him sitting there for much longer. Why the hell doesn't Stanley just sell his own work? The man is seriously gifted."

"Don't know, but you don't get to be one of the world's best forgers without..." His voice trailed off at the end, and he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He found whoever he was looking for and hit go, "Stephanie needs to talk to Stanley; sooner rather than later."

"What?" I squeaked.

"Now would be perfect," Ranger said and Ranger hung up.

"What?" I repeated.

"The UNSUB drew attention to an $800,000 Penny Red stamp; the obvious reason would be that the stamp was a fake."

And the penny (red, sorry) dropped, "And it would have to be a very good fake; one that would fool the experts at the Smithsonian. And what are the odds that two friends would know two completely different world class forgers?"

"Pretty slim," Ranger said.

"That doesn't explain why _I'm_ interrogating Stanley?"

"I just shot off his ear; he's probably not going to talk to me."

"You make people talk to you all the time, whether they hate you or not," I said.

"Babe."

"Ranger," I whined, "He's a creepy red haired spider, and squashing spiders is a man's job."

"Nice try. You've lived mostly alone for years; you kill your own spiders, and you've faced down serial killers. I think you'll be fine."

"Fine," I pouted.

I followed Ranger out of Rory's office to an interrogation room and waited while they brought Stanley in. He looked even more ridiculous now because he had a huge bandage on his ear and his orange jump suit clashed with his hair.

I waited until he was chained to the table and then I walked in.

"I'm here to ask you about stamps," I said and flopped down on the chair opposite him. Stanley laughed.

"You're supposed to charm and finesse me until you have me eating out of the palm of your hand, and _then_ you ask me questions."

"I'm too tired to have charm or finesse. Did you forge Darryl Stevens' Penny Red stamp?" I asked.

"I didn't," Stanley said, "Would have loved to though. Making handbags is easy, and has a limited profit margin, worst of all they are boring. Stamps are fun, they require more skilled hands, and not any idiot can do it because there are so many factors to consider."

"Like what?"

"The paper, the plates the stamps were printed on, ink, wear, type face, adhesive. It's a lot of work for a single stamp. Then there is the variability. What makes one stamp worth millions, but the other from the same era, and nearly identical in appearance, worth almost nothing? You need to be able to know those distinctions, and it's different for each stamp. High quality, and I mean those of the highest calibre, stamp forgers are rare, in fact, their work is almost as valuable as the original."

"Would you know who did it, if you saw the work?" I said.

"I did see it," he said, "At the museum when it was on display; I like to see how the public reacts to my work. Rather favorably as it turns out; if you were wondering."

"I thought you just said you didn't do it?"

"I didn't; the Penny Red is the genuine article," Stanley said with a smile, "It's the rest of the collection that's fake."

"Come again?" I said, "You've just admitted to forging 9.2 Million dollars worth of stamps, in an interrogation room, on the record, so there's more to this."

"I was commissioned to by the owner," he said, "It's not uncommon, and it's not illegal and he's not trying to sell it as the genuine article; he just didn't want to put a ten million dollar collection with high sentimental value, on display to the public. The Smithsonian knew he was displaying reproductions; the Penny Red was the one they cared about, so he let the genuine article be displayed."

"Who would know that?" I asked.

"Larry, he put us in touch about a year ago," Stanely said with a shrug, "The insurance company was informed as well, and the director of the Smithsonian, and the curator of the exhibit."

"Did you sign your work?" I asked.

"That's how you get caught, sweetheart. I don't do it for the recognition anyway."

"Why do you do it?" I asked, "You're gifted, more than gifted, why don't you just sell your own work?"

"I did," he said, "I did very well too, but it was boring. Even my most mediocre efforts were praised as genius. One day, as an experiment I put a dot of black paint in the middle of a six foot canvas and it was praised as my most brilliant work, and sold for half a million dollars."

"I wish I made money that easily," I said.

"I could teach you how. You may not have artistic talent, but I'm willing to bet you can talk your way into and out of anything. No reason you couldn't talk people out of their money."

"No thanks."

"There's more fun if there's the thrill that you might get caught, or where failure could have dire consequences. That's why I do this, my darling. Creating a replica so perfect that you can fool the world's biggest experts? That is where the high is; it's a feeling that is better than sex."

"You're doing sex wrong," I said.

He grinned, "I can assure you, I do sex very right."

"I'll take your word for it," I said, "You may be excellent, but you'll never be Ranger."

"He is rather the ideal, isn't he?"

"Didn't realize you swung that way," I said.

"I told you, I like things that are beautiful," Stanley said. From the way he said it, I didn't know if he wanted to sleep with Ranger or have him bronzed and put in a gallery, or maybe both. I suppose it should be a feather in my cap that he thought I was in Ranger's league-ish. Stanley's eyes went from a sort of dreamy speculation to assessing.

"Do you know what it is about you that is so arresting?" he said.

"My energetic hair?" I said.

"No; though I can relate to that. It's your eyes; they are a remarkable shade of blue. If I were to paint you, I'd spend weeks, just on their perfection. Not many women can get away with wearing mascara as their only makeup for the day. You can because your skin is flawless, and your eyes, they draw the attention away from any of your other imperfections."

"Oh brother," I said and rolled those eyes, "I want to go home, so can we just can the corny pickup lines and just finish this? Larry didn't just introduce you to Darryl by saying, 'Hey, you want replicas of your stamps? This guy I know is forging all of my wife's more expensive handbags; he's really good, do you want to meet him?' How did he introduce you?"

"He said, 'This is Stanley, we met in college, and I think he can help you with your stamp problem.' "

"Did you actually meet him in college?"

"I met him in a bar," Stanley said, "The beautiful idiot made the introductions. I don't know how Pierre met Larry, but everyone uses Pierre at some point, so it's possible he could know him through anyone."

"Thanks, I'm done," I said and stood up.

"Before you go," he said, "Larry is very rich; he make oodles of money in a legitimate way, so ask yourself, why is he doing this?"

"Do you know why?" I asked.

"I don't," Stanley said, "but there will be a reason, and I wouldn't underestimate him. This is just a sideline for him, and I doubt he'll set foot in prison."

I left him to the care of the Feds and walked to the viewing room to find Ranger.

"He's creepy," I said, "And I think he's torn between wanting to sculpt you and wanting to do unspeakable things to you."

"I know," Ranger said, "But he wants you more."

"Yeah, that scares the hell out of me," I said.

"That's only because you're smart," Ranger said, "Let's roll. I'm hungry, and we've got a long drive."

We swung by Rangeman to drop off Stanley's sketch so it could be put through the facial recognition software. Then we grabbed a couple of healthy sandwiches from the breakroom and headed home.

Ranger and I got back to the house a little after 1 am and I fell into bed, completely wiped. I was cool to sleep just as I was, but Ranger wasn't, so he prodded me off of the bed and helped me into pajamas aka his t-shirt and then gently shoved me back down. "How are you not exhausted right now?" I asked.

"Don't sleep a lot, Babe, and I'm not crashing right now. You are."

I popped up onto my elbows, "That wasn't an adrenaline rush?"

"It wasn't what I'd call a rush."

"What would be a rush?"

"Jumping off a bridge?" he said, with a smirk.

"Shut up, I'm serious," I said.

"If he'd resisted, or if it had been just me there without you or that backup," Ranger said with a shrug, "Maybe then."

"Why the mini army then?" I asked.

"We had no idea who LaPorte was working with; he never works alone, and Stanley is one of the gentler of his friends."

"Since I'm pretty sure that if his mom hadn't put him in art class when he was little, he'd be a serial killer now, that's saying something."

Ranger thought about that for a beat, "Come to think of it, I don't know that we've ever ruled that possibility out; he certainly fits the profile."

"And you put me alone in the room with him and his creepy maybe serial killer flirting?!" Then I saw Ranger's grin, "Stop fucking with me like that!"

"It was too easy, Babe," Ranger said, "Would you like me to fuck with you a different way instead?"

"Well, yeah," I said, "Since you're not tired..."

He dropped his pants, and I tossed the t-shirt, then he grabbed my ankles and yanked me down the bed, so I was flat on my back. Then he was on top of me, kissing my throat, and I was rapidly getting to the point I was in the truck, you know, before he'd stopped because he'd spotted Stanley, and just like that I lost my mojo and was filled with stupid insecurity.

"You're thinking," Ranger said, his lips against my collar bone, "Do you want me to fix that?"

"In the truck, I thought you were as into it as I was," I said.

"I was," he said.

"But you spotted Stanley down in the parking lot," I said.

"I'm always aware of my surroundings," he said.

"Yeah, but I was pretty sure we were about to do it in the truck,"

"We were," he said, "And when I'm about to make love to a woman, that's when I'm most aware. I probably wouldn't have seen Stanley otherwise."

"You're aware because you're more vulnerable?"

"Do I look like I'm vulnerable right now?"

No, not even a little bit. In fact, I'm pretty sure anyone who attempted something right now, would find themselves harmed, severely, and without remorse. Ranger clearly had one thing on his mind, and he wouldn't be happy with a distraction.

"Why then?"

"Because if I lose myself, and lose track of what's going on around me, how would I notice that when I kiss you here," he kissed to the right of my belly button, and I felt my whole body tense reflexively in anticipation of what he was going to do next. "You stop breathing... and when I do this..." he nipped at my hip bone and my bones liquified, and I started breathing rapidly. "Or that when I take you slowly, you like it better if my hand is on your left hip, controlling the rhythm, but if I'm taking you hard, you like my hand under you back, lifting you off the bed. You think I'm inside your head when I make love to you; I'm just paying attention..."

He put his hand on my hip and gently slipped inside me and I fought to keep focus. To be aware of my surroundings.

"Stop," he said in my ear.

"You just said..."

"I just said I am most aware when I'm in bed; if you're still aware of your name, I'm not doing my job right," he said. Then he began to move, and I stopped thinking altogether.

By some miracle the next morning, I woke up when Ranger got out of bed. While he'd effectively shut down my brain during the night, it was up and running again. So while he went for his morning run, I went downstairs, opened the house up, and realized that the rain had in fact hit us sometime last night. There were puddles all over the pool deck but if anything, the humidity was worse today because now there was no breeze.

The first thing I did was power up Ranger's laptop and found the email we'd been waiting for from Rory's assistant. I clicked that open and settled down to read.

DeeDee was an Olympic caliber rower, she was even favorited to win the gold, until during a training session at the gym and an asshat, who was trying to lift more than he should have, lost control of the bar, and stumbled into DeeDee. She fell face down, and he managed to drop 100lbs of dead weight, onto the back of her knee. She required extensive surgery and a shitload of rehab to repair the damage, but it ended her rowing career.

She started gaining weight during her recovery and, not surprisingly, she developed depression. In an attempt to take back control, once her knee was fixed she went on a diet, dropped a bunch of weight, and appeared to get in excellent shape again. It was then that a friend told her that she should write a book detailing how she did it. The publishing house, Westwood and Blaire, gave her a half million dollar advance to write said book. It followed a similar premise to the second edition, but the portion sizes were smaller and she had tips to distract yourself from hunger, and something called The Punishment Workout. It was a two hour long, intense cardio workout, to be completed if you exceeded your daily calorie allotment (by even one calorie), or if you ate something that wasn't on the diet. The book flew off the shelves.

It wasn't until a young woman, by the name of Brandi Sherwood, died, that anyone really paid attention to the fact that it was a step-by-step guide to developing a serious eating disorder. Her family sued DeeDee, and when a court-appointed expert examined the diet, he expressed a serious concern for DeeDee's mental health. He went on to say that with corrected portion sizes, and the loss of the punishment workout, the diet plan would be an excellent one to follow for those looking to shed a few extra pounds.

DeeDee was ordered to undergo a psychiatric evaluation and to seek treatment. The publishing company was ordered to pay the Sherwood family all of the profits from the sales of the book, and ordered to pull the books from the shelves.

After DeeDee had completed the treatment, the publishing company reprinted the book, with the corrected portion sizes, added the disclaimer, and deleted the helpful tips and punishment workouts. Within three months they had recouped their losses and the second edition went on to sell even more copies than the first. The Sherwood family filed an injunction to have the publication stopped, and the royalties sent to them, but the court ruled that it was a drastically different document, and they were only entitled to the profits from the first edition. The Sherwood's were placed under a gag order to stop them from going to the media, saying that they would only be punishing a sick young woman who had worked hard for her second chance.

Ranger came back just as I finished reading the summary from Rory.

"This sucks," I said.

"What sucks?" he asked, breathing a bit hard. I spun the laptop towards him so he could read. His shirt was soaked with sweat from his run, and he was actually a little ripe, (which, to be honest, I didn't think was possible). He was aware of it and took off the offensive garment and tossed it downwind before he leaned over me to read the screen. It was an immediate improvement. He'd really pushed himself that day; I could see his pulse hammering in his throat while he read. I slid him my glass of juice, and he sipped it automatically. When he finished reading, he spun the computer back to me.

"I don't know if we learned anything from that, but..." I stopped because Ranger held up a finger for me to wait. He pounded back the OJ, then promptly toed off his shoes and walked to the pool where he dove in and swam a few lengths. I went inside to grab him a towel, and came back out just in time for him to haul himself out of the pool. He patted himself dry, dropped his shorts and wrapped the towel around his hips.

"Feel better there, Sparky?" I asked.

"It's 90 degrees, and it's only 8:00; even I find this fucking hot."

"You slept in today," I said.

"It happens," he said, "You got up early."

"It happens," I said.

"What were you saying before?" he asked.

"I was saying, everybody is right about him escalating. What is the point of telling DeeDee he knows about her secret? What's that going to do? She was sick; the ones at fault are the publishing company who printed the damned book. And what's the point of sharing Melissa's abortion with her father? I think this guy started off ticked off about something, and when nobody took his message seriously, he became obsessed. I don't think he's all big on exposing secrets because he's pissed off about people having secrets, I think he pissed off because people are publicly treating it like a joke."

"So the first two we know about, are Brett and Rhonda's bed by the pool and the Coopers and their sex life, " Ranger said.

"Yeah, and then the Pearsons and their Nazi dishes, and then the Frankishes and their sheets. Then it was Candice's house, then Shelly Masterson and her secret daughter , the bags, and the stamp and then DeeDee's thing."

"There's a theme," Ranger said.

"Yeah, he doing things in pairs. Sex, household items, teen pregnancy, forgery, and now DeeDee's thing. So what's he going to look for now? Evidence that we've been involved in someone's death? That's not exactly going to be difficult, discounting..." I trailed off, mindful not to bring up Abruzzi.

"Records sealed to protect the innocent," Ranger said grimly.

"You don't think that's it do you?" I asked.

"If it is, I'm going to be pissed, but it's not going to hurt her. She doesn't live here; she doesn't need to know."

"He doesn't know that," I said, "Your custody arrangements aren't exactly public knowledge. As far as he should know, the press lied about your relationship with your daughter to draw Scrogg out."

"And everything else about the case should be sealed. Not just kept off of the internet, but requiring a court order to unseal. This is not stuff just anybody can get," Ranger said, "That Julie was the one who pulled the trigger and not you, should never be available to the public."

"If it were me, and I was looking for dirt, in a hurry, I'd google. The only thing that's going to show up about the both of us, besides our recent engagement, is going to be Scrogg. I freaked out about the other thing, because he's exposing big secrets, and that's my biggest, but if I really think about it, it's going to be a reach for him to get there. Instead, I'd want to see if I could find more detail about the one case that everybody knows about. If I find out that the file is sealed, I'm going to want that information. The court's not going to give it to me, so how else can I get the information?"

Ranger picked my phone up from the table and made a phone call. The phone call was to Florence ADX otherwise known as the Alcatraz of the Rockies. A Supermax prison located in Colorado and home to one Ed Scrogg. Julie hadn't killed him; he was in a wheelchair, and he did have a stroke as a result of the shooting, so he had half his face paralyzed, but he was alive and in Supermax. If he'd had a visitor lately, we might be able to figure this out a bit more quickly.

Ranger was on hold forever before he was put through to someone who could answer his questions. Which were: Has Scrogg had any visitors lately? Has anyone asked to make arrangements to see him? and finally; Has he had any phone calls lately?

He hung up the phone and put it back down on the table, "He's been in solitary for the last three weeks for attempting to sell his pain medication to other inmates. No calls regarding him either, but if there are, they are going to contact me immediately."

"We could be wrong," I said, "In fact, I hope we're just paranoid."

"You know what they say about paranoia," Ranger said.

"What? That it's not paranoia if someone is out to get you?"

"Still, it might be worth it to have Rory run the rest of the friends through the system to see if they have any lawsuits that have been sealed. We have until Sunday before he does something,"

"How do you figure?"

"Each pair was done on the same day of the week," Ranger said.

"You're right," I said, "So including today that gives us... five... days... to..." my voice trailed off as I realized what day it was, "HOLY SHIT IT'S WEDNESDAY!"

"And?"

"I have to go out; I have a lot to do, we're getting married tomorrow!"

"We're eloping; how much could you possibly have to do?"

"I need a dress, and shoes, and I need to get my nails done, and I need to buy underwear you haven't seen, and I need flowers. I'm going to see what they have here, but if I don't find anything, I'm going to take the car."

"You need flowers?"

"We're getting married in a church right? So presumably there's an aisle I'm going to walk down?"

"Yes," he said.

"What the hell else am I going to do with my hands, while I walk down the aisle? I'll look like a dope if I don't have anything in my hands."

At that, Ranger cracked up and kissed my forehead, "I'll worry about your flowers."

"What about rings?" I said.

"I've got that covered," He said, "I took care of it on Monday."

"Of course, you did," I said, "What time are we getting married?"

"1400,"

I put my hand on his cheek, gave him a big, fast kiss and then ran into the house. I threw on a pair of nude underwear and a strapless bra, wriggled into a pair of jean shorts, grabbed a tank top at random and shoved my feet into flipflops. I spent a lot less time on my makeup than I had been recently, but the bruise had dulled to the really ugly yellow green phase so it was easier to cover up. I crammed my hair into a big clip and flew out of the house.

My first stop was the spa where I made an appointment for early the next morning. Let's face it, there was no chance any manicure and pedicure I got today would survive, intact, the day before my wedding; my luck wasn't that good. The woman at the spa also convinced me to get my hair treated, which meant I'd have to be at the spa by 7:00 but I could do that, it was for a good cause. I took the appointment card and after exhausting every other store in the area, I went back into Milessa's.

She had exactly one white dress and it was gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. It was a high neck, nude halter dress that fit like skin and was covered by a beautiful hand ticked white Spanish lace. It was perfect, except for the fact that it was also a mini dress, and while my legs looked fantastic, it wasn't going to cut it for church. I couldn't have a backless minidress for my wedding dress. I groaned, looking at my reflection. There was no question that Ranger would love it; I loved it.

"What's wrong?" Milessa said. I explained the situation to Milessa, and she said, "Don't take that dress off; sit here and look at shoes with my assistant. I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

So I tried on shoes. I was buckling my way into a pair of ankle breaking, mile high gladiator sandals when the shop door swung open and Nadia walked in.

"Oh, Stephanie," she said frostily, "Shopping again I see, shouldn't you be working? Isn't that why you left so suddenly last night?"

"We finished what we were doing, so I'm back on vacation," I said brightly, ignoring her tone.

"I see," she said, her voice still cool, "Those shoes are a little young for you."

I looked down at my feet, the shoes were awesome, "You think?"

"Women our age shouldn't wear shoes that high," she sniffed.

"I'm not worried; I'm from New Jersey; it's expected," I said.

"I see," she said again, "I was just dropping in to check on the status of some new trousers Milissa is doing for me."

"I was just about to call you," the assistant said, "The supplier who makes the thread you requested, says they don't have enough of the Violent Pink left in this dye lot for your order. They are doing another lot and then we'll be able to add the embroidery to the hems as you requested. They say it'll be ready in a week. After that it shouldn't be more than a couple of weeks."

"Thank you," she said and turned to walk out of the store, "Stephanie."

As soon as the door closed behind her, the girl looked at me, "What crawled up her bum?"

"Not a clue," I said. Milessa came back a few minutes later and her assistant filled her in on Nadia's visit.

"She ordered the pants yesterday, and I told her it would take a few weeks. Honestly, she's a pain in the ass. She comes in here, wants me to change everything just for her, and when I tell her how much something is going to cost, she always tries to haggle. 'Oh Millie, how much can a little bit of thread and a few extra beads cost?' It's not the cost; it's the labor you twit," Milessa said, "Then, for a while there, I would do all of the work, she would buy it, and then return it a few days later saying there was something 'not right' about it. But I get the newsletter too, so I know she's wearing my things to events and returning them the next day."

"Is she having financial problems?" I asked.

"Lord no," Milessa said, "It's because her husband has had her on a tight leash, financially speaking, ever since she renovated the house."

"Oh?"

"The house didn't need work when they took it over; it had just been finished by the previous tennants. She told him she wasn't wild about the colors and asked if she could paint. He went away for a month on business and while he was gone she had the pool done, all of the tile in the house replaced, and of course the pink paint job. She paid extra to have everything done before he came home. The place used to be quite nice, but now it's... well presumably you've seen it?"

"I have," I said.

"Well I'll bet you haven't seen the basement," Milessa said.

"What's special about the basement?"

"Not sure, but it was the reason he agreed to lease the house in the first place. You see, he didn't want PR status, he didn't see the point in it since he was only there two weeks a year, but he agreed because I guess it had this cool basement. She apparently changed it and he was pissed. Since he's the one with the money, he controls how much she gets every month, and if she wants to look like she's keeping up with the Joneses, she has to get creative. I used to have this policy here that said, no matter what, if you took something home and weren't satisfied with the garment, provided it wasn't dirty or torn, we'd take it back. I figured it was important because a lot of the clothes I sell are like the dress you bought, they have to fit just right, or they don't work. Thanks to Nadia, I've had to change that policy. Now I only do exchanges for store credit, and if I've had to alter the garment to fit you, I won't accept the return. I will alter it until you're satisfied with the fit, free of charge, but I won't take it back in the store."

"How did Nadia take the policy change?" I asked.

"She stopped coming here as often," Milessa said, "I don't miss her."

"I gather she's rather influential in the community; I hope that didn't hurt your bottom line?" I said.

"No, Nadia thinks she's queen bee around here because Liam is Roman's attorney on record for all real estate transactions, and because Liam is on the board. The reality is, she has little influence over Liam's actions, and I know it hurts her that he doesn't come here as often as the other husbands. Honestly, can you see a man like Liam, happy with a pink house? She wants to change it back, and she has been, slowly, but like I said, she's on a leash."

"To be honest, Liam sounds like..."

"A bit of a prick?" Milessa said with a laugh, "He's not that bad; a bit of a control freak, but he does love her, and she adores him, and she has use of their plane whenever she wants it, so if she wants to fly to New York to see him, she can. She likes it here, and he does visit her a lot, just not every weekend, and he usually comes bearing gifts when he does. Now enough venting about my least favorite customer. Let's see what we can do with you. On your feet."

I stood up, and she took the bolt of chiffon and flipped down a length of it and wrapped it low around my waist, then pinned it in place. She then went to the back of her shop and came back with a thick band of dark gold lace ribbon, which complimented the lace of my dress. She pinned that over the chiffon and flipped more of the bolt down until puddled behind me in a soft train. Okay, in like five minutes, she turned me into a bride, a sexy one, yes, but a bride nonetheless and I loved the dress.

"What I'll do," Milessa said, "is make this whole rig detachable, so you don't have to worry about trying to maneuver this train anywhere after the wedding."

"It's perfect," I said.

"Good, this will take me the afternoon, and I'll swing by your place tonight to drop it off, and do any alterations necessary," she said. She fussed with the pins and nipped and adjusted the fit of the original dress until she was happy with it. Then, she carefully helped me remove it and gave a ticket to her assistant before she carted the whole thing to the back of her store.

I changed back into my clothes, paid for the dress and shoes and carried my shoes across the street to get myself a coffee. I was paying for my iced coffee when my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I looked down. They had a hit on the facial recognition; he was a private investigator locate in a strip mall, south of Miami. Ranger had some calls to make and wanted to head over there in an hour. I took my drink from the barista and was about to head back when a man's voice called my name.

"Stephanie!" I turned and saw Liam and Drew sitting at one of the bistro tables on the coffee shop's patio. The patio overlooked the boardwalk, and it was peaceful that morning.

I walked over to the table, "Hello, sorry about running out like that last night," I said, "I gather we offended some people by our abrupt departure; it wasn't intentional."

"Pull up a seat," Drew said and reached to a nearby table to snag an empty chair for me. I adjusted the seat and joined them.

"Nothing to worry about," Liam said, "Nadia has her nose bent out of joint because she's bored, and jealous; she'll get over it."

"So what's this big case you're working on?" Drew asked, leaning forward, "Candice said something about a million dollar bond? I have to say, I'm more than a little intrigued."

"Oh that, yeah," I said, "I got a lead that my skip might be here in the Keys, and Ranger was coming down to work a different case and said I should hitch a ride with him. Turns out if my skip isn't already in Peru, he's on his way there. So when Ranger's done his thing here, we'll head there."

"How did you come up with Peru, of all places?" Liam asked genially.

"Chocolate," I said.

"Come again?" Drew asked.

"One of the best ways to find someone is to look for their weaknesses, and in this guy's case, it happens to be chocolate. I did some research and discovered that the rarest chocolate in the world happened to be in Peru. A little digging later I learned that he was entering into a business arrangement for a chocolate plantation in Peru," I said. "Though I suppose it's possible he's using chocolate as a cover for cocaine, but what do I care what he's actually growing? I just want the capture money."

I took a sip of my drink and tried not to be offended by the frank surprise on their faces.

"Can you tell us what last night was about?" Liam asked.

"No, sorry, I can't yet. I promise I'm not trying to sound cool when I say the FBI asked me not to," I said and both men laughed.

"Well now this is really beyond the pale," I turned to see a visibly furious Nadia standing behind me. "First, I see you shopping this morning, and then there was your treatment of Carol yesterday, and now I find you gossiping with my husband, when I've hired you to do a job. Frankly it's unacceptable, and I'm going to have to terminate our arrangement. You're fired Stephanie, now run along home."

"Nadia," Liam said warningly.

"No, it's fine," I said, "First of all, Nadia, you can't fire me, you asked me to do you a favor, you aren't actually paying me. Second, when and how I conduct my investigations is none of your business, but I take my work seriously, and if you were to stop and think for one minute, you'd realize that this isn't some stupid little prank being pulled off by children. They are threats, and this idiot is escalating; it won't be long before someone gets hurt. Finally, if Carol is upset about the way she was treated in my house, maybe next time she'll think about propositioning my fiance in front of me."

"You're the one who asked Stephanie to look into the break-ins?" Liam asked.

"Yes," Nadia said with a sniff, "But it wasn't serious; I thought it would be a good way to get to know her. Unfortunately, the more I learn about her, the more I'm regretting that decision."

"Oh?" I asked, "What have you learned about me?"

"You barely paid your rent last month; you mooch most of your meals off of your mother, and until last week you weren't even in a relationship with Ricardo; you were with that Cop you were talking to the other day. So you'll have to excuse Carol for not taking your commitment to Ricardo too seriously. It's pretty obvious, you have a loose definition of monogamy."

"Which Cop?" Liam asked.

"What?" Nadia said.

"You said she was talking to a Cop," Liam said.

"Oh that! The other day, this guy shows up here, and he and Ricardo get into this huge fight, and like a thug, Ricardo draws a gun. She gets punched in the face and breaks up the fight. They complain to Romy and tell him that this Cop was on their Proscribed List of visitors, and she gets Roy fired. The very next day, I saw her flirting with this Cop by the pool."

"We weren't flirting; we were exchanging information," I said calmly, "I told you what we were doing when you approached me."

"Yeah, discussing how you were going to have lunch with some mobster so you could do him a favor," She said with a roll of her eyes, "Pull the other one honey, it's got bells on it."

"Nadia, that's enough," Liam said. I wasn't pissed off at Nadia; I expected her to dig up dirt on me. What was curious about it, was how angry she was about what she'd found. It's not like she knew Joe or Ranger, so I was wondering if maybe she had a break-in and she was afraid I was going to find out her secret, so she was lashing out?

Normally she was so bright and bubbly, even when she had her claws out, but today, everything about her was muted; even her clothing was limited to kahki and white, when normally she was the goddess of pink. Her hair, usually perfect, was scraped back into a ponytail that hung limply behind her, and her makeup was minimal at the very best, which wasn't like her either.

I had two options here, I could go full rhino on her, or I could be the bigger person here and walk away. My phone rang while I was making my decision and I fished it out of my bag. It was Morelli.

"What?" I said.

"Cupcake, it's me," Joe said, "Nicky approached me at my hotel just now; he didn't want to call you, because he wasn't sure if your phone was secure."

"It's really not," I said, "What did he want?"

"He told me to tell you to watch your back, and he said he needed you to call him tonight from a secure line," Joe said, "He said to tell you, that this wasn't a favor; he's just protecting Harry's assets. Want to tell me what that's about?"

"No idea," I said. There was a loud metallic bang in the background and the sound of someone yelling, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm in the gym; some idiot was trying to lift too much, and he dropped the weights. He's yelling at himself for being weak. Personally, I wouldn't be too upset, he was attempting to lift about the same weight as a Volvo..." His voice trailed off.

"What?"

"I think I'm hallucinating, but I think I just saw Brenda Blomsky here. She's looking good too, but it can't be her; I heard she was working as an accountant for Price Waterhouse. Shouldn't she be really busy this time of year?"

"Fuck," I said.

"What?"

"She's a forensic accountant who works for the SEC now," I said.

"What is she doing here Stephanie?"

"I can't tell you right now because I'm in public, with an audience," I said, "Ranger and I have a lead we're following up in an hour; do me a favor and let her know you're here? She'll fill you in."

"I bet you thought this was an easy job when he asked you, didn't you?" Joe said with a laugh.

"I should have remembered that his favors usually end up being a pain in my ass," I said, "I've gotta go."

I disconnected and stood up, "As fascinating as this has been; I'm going to be late for a meeting if I don't get going."

"I'll apologize on my wife's behalf, for her behavior just now," Liam said, "She might not be interested in you working for her, but I might have something that's up your alley. I'm impressed by how your mind works."

"Liam!" Nadia shrieked, "You can't do that!"

"Stephanie is proving to be a talented investigator," Liam said, "We could use her services at our firm."

"I agree," Drew added, "You asked her to look into something as a joke, and you got burned because she takes her job seriously. You're just going to have to live with it."

Nadia went white and stormed off to the ladies room. I said goodbye to Drew and Liam and left to meet Ranger. I was going to begin a deep background search on Nadia when I got home; I needed to know what this guy dug up.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Hello! Here's the latest chapter, it's a long one, and lots happens. I kept trying to break it up into smaller bits but it just wouldn't work. I hope you continue to like it!**

I got back to the house and jogged upstairs to drop my shoes on the closet floor, and then hurried back down to the office and skidded to a stop just outside the door, catching myself on the frame. Ranger was hanging up the phone as I half-tumbled into the room.

"I know, you want to get on the road, but I have to start this search on Nadia," I said, "It'll take me two minutes to get it going."

"Do you maybe want to share why you have a sudden need to know all her dirty secrets?" he asked.

"Just a second; I can't multitask like you can," I said, holding up a finger, "I know your mind can handle like fifty things at once, but my brain tops out at around twenty, like max; anything over that and it all shorts out." I waggled my fingers beside my head in a gesture that was supposed to indicate my brain frying.

I pulled up the programs I needed, and punched in 'Nadia Silverton' getting the search running, "Do you want to do this here, or in the car? Because I don't know if I can be brief."

"The car," he said with a chuckle. We were barely out of the garage when I started talking, by the time I finished telling him about Nadia's weird freak out, what Milessa told me about them, and about Joe and Nicky, and Brenda, we were nearly at the strip mall.

"I'm telling you Ranger, Nadia looked like hell, and when Liam suggested I do some work for his firm, she looked more afraid than angry. Something has happened since last night, and she doesn't want us digging anymore."

"That's troubling," Ranger said, "If our unsub is breaking an established pattern because of the pressure we're putting on him, then there's a good possibility he's unstable."

"There is another possibility that I hadn't considered until just this second; what if DeeDee told Nadia about her thing? Nadia is her best friend after all; maybe she feels guilty about drawing attention to the wrongful death thing," I said.

"Nadia doesn't really strike me as the compassionate type, but you may be right. We'll know once we have the search results back from her," Ranger said.

He signaled and turned into a strip mall that had seen better days. There were three empty units, a dollar store, a McDonalds that even Lula would look sideways at before ordering food, and a defunct Blockbuster. The sign for the blockbuster had been flipped around, so you were only supposed to see the white backside, but you could still make out the inverted lettering. Ranger cruised around the lot, looking at unit numbers and parked in front of the Blockbuster. On the door, there was a Cardboard sign that read, 'WESTON AND ASSOCIATES PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS.'

"Looks like this is the place," I said. There was one desk visible through the glass door, and I had a strong feeling that the 'And Associates' were figments of Weston's imagination.

Ranger powered off the car, and we both got out; Ranger's face was at it's default setting, and I was going for non-threatening and friendly. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my shorts and ducked under Ranger's arm as he held the door open for me.

We found Perry sitting behind an L shaped desk, his feet up on the section facing the wall. His chair was tipped back, hands behind his head as he watched Mall Rats on an old tube tv that was mounted to a bracket hanging from the ceiling.

The bell chimed as the door closed and he looked over at us. "Hey, you're going to have to forgive the offices, I just moved in last week; haven't had a chance to do much to them yet. Found a bunch of movies in the back that they left behind when they shut this place down. Most of them are shit, but some are classics." He picked up a clunky remote and powered off the television, then turned his complete attention to us, "What can I do for you folks?"

While I believed that the Blockbuster left behind the movies, the line about the office was a lie. Ranger had a file on him; he'd been in the same location for the last five years. The lie had come easily; like he told it so many times that he almost believed it. My guess was since he had a steady case load, he probably didn't see a need for updating offices that were working just fine as they were. He sort of reminded me of Vinnie actually; he probably had a back room full of crap that he took in lieu of payment like Vinnie did. The big difference between him and Vinnie was that his smile was friendly, where Vinnie's made you want to take a shower.

He motioned for us to sit on folding metal chairs in front of his desk. I cringed as I felt my thighs immediately begin to stick to the seat; I would have to be careful about how I moved if I wanted to avoid make embarrassing noises. Ranger's chair creaked threateningly as he sat on it. Ranger was in great shape, but muscle is heavy, and the chair wasn't exactly on the new side. It held, though, because let's face it, no chair would dare break on Ranger. Also, this was Ranger we were talking about; he probably gave the damn thing a complete mental, structural evaluation before he subjected his weight to it.

"Before we get started here," Weston said, "I have a standard contract you need to look over; it includes a preliminary consultation fee, but that fee buys you my signature on a nondisclosure agreement." He reached for a stack of forms he kept ready in the lid of a printer paper box, on his desk. Either the man had a serious recycling fetish, or he was a tightwad; honestly, twenty bucks at Staples and his desk would look more professional. Jesus Christ, I was turning into my mother. With that horrifying realization, I promptly said a mental apology for my silent judgment.

"We're not here to employ you, Mr. Weston," Ranger said, drawing my attention to the matter at hand.

"Call me Perry, and if you're here because you are press, the NDA means I can't tell you anything," Perry said.

Ranger reached into his pocket and produced a card and handed it to Weston.

"No shit! Is this really you?" Perry said, his head snapping up in delight, "I recommend you to all of my clients when they are looking to beef up their personal security. Seriously, if I see your sticker in a window I don't even try to get into the house; it's a total non-starter for me. What could you possibly need me for? I'd think you could find anything you wanted. Hell don't you have private investigators of your own?"

Perry was reminding me less and less of Vinnie and more and more of an excited terrier. "She, is my private investigator," Ranger said and nodded towards me, "Your name has come up in the course of one of our investigations, and we have some questions for you."

"I don't know what I can tell you, but I'll co-operate as much as I can," Perry said.

"Why were you following Larry Ratcliffe?" I asked. Perry looked at me as if he suddenly remembered I was in the room. He'd totally forgotten when he saw Ranger's card, but Ranger's declaration that I was his private investigator, made his eyes light up in admiration. It was pretty flattering actually.

"Oh, that? That's quite something isn't it? The whole job was insane!" Perry said eagerly, "So this guy comes to me and says he thinks his wife is stepping out on him, and he wants proof. This isn't unusual; it's basically a PI's bread and butter right? So I get him to sign the paperwork; he goes out of town, and like two minutes after his flight takes off, I catch her in the act with their neighbor. Now I'm not supposed to report back to him for like two weeks right? And he's paid me up front, in cash. So I call him and say I have proof of the affair, and I send him one of the pictures. Then I tell him, I'll refund him all but an hours work and the retainer. He tells me to keep it; he wants me to look into the guy; he's going to sue both of them for adultery. He wants to know who else is involved in keeping the secret; wants to know who his real friends are. So I follow these people around and do as he asks which is to report back anything that I think is strange. I don't see much, but I see your guy Larry, and he's not a good kinda guy right?"

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"He's mean," Perry said, "One of those guys who smiles to your face, sounds all friendly but is really cutting you down. The kind of guy that gets in your head and makes you think you're shit, without you realizing it. His wife is no better; she's practically a sexual predator. She likes married men, the happier they are, the better. It's like she enjoys the challenge of fucking up marriages. It's probably because her own is so messed up."

"Why did you follow Larry to the warehouse?" Ranger asked.

"That's the screwy part," Perry said, "So I'm sitting around, sweating my balls off in a fucking golf cart and security guard's uniform, watching Larry's house. I see the Missus come home with this shopping bag from, that guy, what's his name, the shoes guy?" He snapped his fingers at himself to improve his recall I guess.

"Manolo Blahnik?" I suggested.

"No, the guy, the one who makes the sexy shoes with the red soles," he said.

"Christian Louboutin?" I said.

"Yeah, that's the one," he replied, "So she's going into the house and this chick stops her, looks like Barbie. They're talking and the wife pulls out this funky spiked purse, one of them ones that don't have a strap..."

"A clutch?"

"Yeah, so she pulls this clutch thing from her shopping bag and Barbie, she gets all excited about it, and then the two of them go inside. The next day, Barbie and the wife get in the car to do more shopping and good ole Larry comes out of the house, with the clutch, and he's stuffing it into one of them bags that comes with expensive purses. So I'm fucked right, because he gets into a car and I'm stuck in this damned golf cart."

"Why didn't you just bring a car?" I asked.

"I drive that piece of shit Nova out there that's got so much rust on it, you'd think the thing had an STD. I'm almost worried that the Porsche parked next to it is going to catch Herpes just by being in the same lot."

Well, there was an unexpected visual that I didn't need. I did a small shudder and wondered what would happen to the paint job if we dumped a couple of buckets of hand sanitizer on it.

"Needless to say, it would stand out," Perry said, "So I tell my client my car problem, and say if he wants me to see what good ole Larry is up to with the bag, I'm going to have to rent something, and it's gonna go on his bill. He told me to go ahead, so I rented a Cadillac and about a week later, I see him get into his car with the shopping bag from the shoe place. I end up following him to this Taco Bell, where he meets up with this guy who looks like the angel Gabriel, if the Angel Gabriel was French and fucked out of his mind on weed. Gabriel hands him the spiked purse, but it doesn't look right; like the leather isn't as nice."

"How close were you that you could tell?" I asked.

"I was looking at him through a telephoto lens sweetheart," Perry said, "So anyway, Larry shoves it into the shopping bag and gets into the car, and I tailed him to this warehouse. He was in that place for fucking ever, before this guy who looked like an anorexic Carrot Top arrived in this big bright gold Bently convertible. So like, I got this parabolic mic that I set up on the dash and manage to record a lot of the conversation. And it turns out they have this whole counterfeiting scheme..."

"We know about it," Ranger said. Perry was really into his story, but he wasn't really giving us anything new, and we both wanted him to move it along.

"So yeah, anyway, I get back to the office and tell my client what I've found, and he gets all excited and says, he can't wait to see Larry's face when he finds out he's going to prison. Two days later, who shows up at my office? but the Stoned Angel. He flashes me an FBI badge and it looks legit. He tells me he's got a court order to stop me from continuing the investigation. He says he's spoken to my client and explained that he's working undercover as part of a bigger operation, and exposing Larry's secret is going to endanger several operatives."

"Who was the Fed?" Ranger asked.

"Special Agent, Pierre Something," Perry said, "It's in the file."

I looked at Ranger, "Well we know that Stanley got a good look at him. He probably made Pierre some fake creds and sent him to shut down Perry," I said. Ranger nodded. "Which means that Stan lied to me about knowing who was in the picture."

"You have an interesting definition of nondisclosure," Ranger said to Perry.

"Client confidentiality is very important to me, but money means more. The NDA clearly states that it's void if you don't pay, and he didn't make his last installment."

"How much would it cost us to buy his entire client file?" Ranger asked.

"Well see, I'm a man who's willing to barter," Perry said, he folded his arms and leaned forward on his desk, "I've wanted to upgrade my security system from a dummy camera and a prayer, to what your company has to offer. Only I can't exactly afford the cost of the equipment, installation or the retainer. Give me those free of charge and I'll give you the files, and sign a three-year contract."

"At full rates," Ranger said.

"Yeah, I can swing the rates," Perry said. Ranger snagged one of Perry's business cards and pulled his phone from his pocket. A few minutes of typing on his phone later, Perry's email alert went off on his computer.

"That is a standard contract that grants you a free security assessment and waves the fees you've requested," Ranger said, "Print it and I'll sign it. You call the office to set up times for the assessment and installation."

Perry printed two copies of the contract; Ranger signed them; Perry signed them, and I witnessed them.

"I'm going to need you to sign that NDA," Ranger said.

Perry happily scribbled his signature on the bottom and Ranger took it and handed it to me. "Uh you have to sign it too," Perry said to Ranger.

"I don't sign anything my lawyers haven't gone over," Ranger said, "I'll take that file now."

Perry gave Ranger a bemused look, but got up and retrieved an accordion style file box. He handed the box to Ranger

"Can you tell us anything about this client that might have been unusual?" I asked, "Something that might not be in that box?"

"Yeah, he made me keep detailed records of my methods, and asked a lot of questions. He said it was because he wanted to be sure he was getting his money's worth," Perry said, "But his questions were weird, I got the impression he might want to take over sleuthing on his own."

"This is everything? You haven't left anything out?" Ranger asked.

"You have everything."

"Do you have copies?" Ranger asked.

"Nope."

"Did you make entry into any of the residences?" Ranger asked.

"Fuck no; I can't get around the security systems at Reef Knot; didn't even try. The place has some of the best security in Florida; I told him that too."

"Did he ask you how you might do it?" I asked.

"No, I told him right off the bat, without the codes, there was no way you could get in. Not without highly specialized and illegal equipment; I don't need to get caught with that kind of shit on me."

"Was there anything else he asked about the codes?" I asked.

"Nope," Perry said.

"Thanks for your time; we'll call you if we have more questions," I said.

Ranger got out of his seat and went to the door with the file box.

"He's not a man of many words is he?" Perry said once Ranger was in the car.

"No, he's not," I said, "You get used to it. If you think of anything else, call _me_ ; Ranger says less on the phone than he does in person," I handed him my card. Really, Ranger's abrupt departure was probably because Perry was grating on his nerves. I was used to irritating people, I could field the calls. Perry read my card and sized me up.

"You're in fugitive apprehension too?" He asked, "I was thinking of getting into that; does it pay well?"

"It does if you're Ranger. If you're not Ranger, mostly it just pays the rent," I said and left.

Ranger was sitting in the car with a copy of the original client contract between Perry and our UnSub; he handed it to me when I sat down. On the top of the contract was a label, with big bold letters that read, "BRANDON FRANKISH."

I flipped through the file to see who Karen was having the affair with, sure enough, it was Brett Carter, and the pictures were taken from the boardwalk, using an iPhone on a really fucking long Selfie stick. The file said there was full video of Brett Carter and Karen Frankish, going at it in the Carter's pool. There was a further notation that Brandon had requested the only copy of the memory card containing the video.

"What do we do now?" I asked. After everything, just having the answers handed to us like that was a bit of a letdown. I mean sure, our investigation led us to Perry Weston, but still, it sucked having all of the puzzle filled in like that.

"Now we go see Chase, and inform him the Feds want to be involved," Ranger said.

He dialed Chase and told him we had answers; Chase was in Miami, so we made our way to his offices, and were immediately escorted up to the top floor of an elegant office building. My flip flops felt out of place as they clacked along the pristine marble foyer towards the elevators, and I felt even more out of place dressed in a shorts and a tank top while being surrounded by people in suits, walking around with purpose.

Rory was already there, waiting for us, Ranger handed him the file box from the PI, and we walked into Chase's office. Chase's office would have looked at home in our house, with its white walls and frosted glass furniture. He was finishing up a phone call, motioned for us to take a seat around a coffee table, away from the desk.

The chairs were white leather, but they looked more like modern art than chairs. They were just big twisted blobs of cushion, and it wasn't readily apparent how you were supposed to sit on them. Rory and I contemplated them and ended up perching awkwardly on the edges of the blobs. Ranger, being the smart one, opted to stand. After five minutes I was afraid I was going to develop scoliosis if I stayed sitting on my blob, so I gave up and sat on the floor.

Roman finished his phone call, and joined us. He chose a blob and straddled it from behind and leaned over the top. OH that's how you were supposed to sit on the chairs. I laid out the situation for him and he listened without interruption.

"Fuck, is Roy involved in any of this? I want an audit done on his entire fucking life. I just can't see how the fuck he didn't know there was a counterfeiting operation taking place right under his nose. And a private investigator on the property taking pictures of people in their pools? No way that wasn't reported. There is no way," Chase said.

"They aren't patrolling the entire length of the boardwalk every time they go out," Ranger said, "They aren't gone long enough for that to be the case and the Carter's live at the far end."

"According to the notes, Karen Frankish went to visit Brett Carter just after 9 PM, which means the boardwalk would be sparsely populated. It wouldn't be difficult to do exactly what Weston did, without detection, if you're not worried about security coming up on your position." I said.

"If it turns out Roy's complicit, I want the book thrown at him," Chase said.

"Who designed the current security strategy for Reef Knot?" Rory asked.

"Wasn't it Roy?" I asked, "He implied that was the case."

"Roy gets the credit," Chase said, "But he didn't design it, it was a man by the name of Bertram Earnesto."

Ranger chuckled, "You had Street design it?"

"You were in the middle of Fuckistan blowing people up," Chase said.

"Fair enough," Ranger said.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"A man we were in the Army with," Ranger said.

"He grew up in a neighborhood as exclusive as Reef Knot," Chase said,"He spent most of his life locked away in libraries, teaching himself everything; then one day decided to join the Army. He was an average soldier at best, but he was scooped up by intelligence once they realized just how smart he was."

"Why's he called Street?" I asked.

"Think about out," Ranger said. What? Was it a pun because he grew up in an area which would deprive him of all street smarts? "His name, Babe."

OH. My. God. His name was Bert and Ernie.

"Street as in Sesame Street?" I asked.

Chase grinned, it was the first time he'd cracked a smile since we'd walked in, "Your man has the patience of a saint because Street used to pester him non-stop about everything. Fucking hero worshiped him."

"It wasn't hero worship; he found me fascinating from a research perspective," Ranger said, "But it was fucking useful having him at my heels all the time."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because Chase felt I lacked discipline, so he gave me all of the shit jobs to do around the base. Street would wait until Roman was off being a pain in someone else's ass and then do the work for me in exchange for information."

"You bastard," Chase said, shaking his head, "I'm so proud I could cry."

"Street would have designed the security at Reef Knot, the way I would have. There is no way he would allow the guard house to be empty, or the monitors unmanned, at any time, and you wouldn't be so ridiculously understaffed," Ranger said.

"That's because we changed things a bit from the original design," Chase said, "A few years back a few of the guests started complaining about the number of visible security guards and cameras on the premises. They said they felt like they were living in a police state. Roy said that he knew where we could make changes, and if we left things as is at the hotel, with the hotel security team as back-up, he didn't see why we needed so much staff."

"Why is the security at the hotel independent of the rest of the resort?" I asked.

"Because hotels and communities have a different set of security concerns to consider. Street thought that if the hotel focused on the hotel, then it would leave the rest of Security to concentrate on any other issues. Ultimately, everybody reports back to Roy, and he reports to me."

"How did the complaints come to you?" I asked, "Through Roy?"

"Fuck, it was Ratcliffe; I put him in charge of tenant relations about six years ago."

"When did he broach the subject?" Rory asked.

"Three years ago," Chase said, "Not a single red flag went up either. The board was unanimous in their agreement to reduce security and I didn't give it another thought. Roy sold it well."

"I'm going to have Roy brought in for questioning," Rory said, "It's looking more and more like he tampered with the no fly list as a way to distract you from the investigation."

"Who the hell else has he just waved it?" Roman said, "This is such a fucking mess. It's going to be a PR nightmare."

"I'm going to do this as quietly as possible, so hopefully it will be more like a hiccup and not a disaster," Rory said, "I'd keep it close to my office but I'm going to have to coordinate with local law enforcement, Frankish's crimes aren't my jurisdiction unless we can tie them to the counterfeiting."

"I can give you names of men we can trust," Ranger said.

I sat there while the three R's discussed tactics and let my mind wander. If Roy was involved in the counterfeiting scheme, then it would stand to reason, that was why the investigations into the break-ins were half-assed and why he wouldn't want the police involved. I bet if the victims were questioned, we'd find that they had been discouraged from looking. My only problem with that was, nothing about Roy raised any flags until Joe was waved in. Once our interest was piqued, we combed through his life extensively. Like the victims, there were no immediate signs of blackmail, and he hadn't started spending beyond his means. So what the hell was his motive? I suppose he might have a secret that was being exploited, but it didn't feel right. I was personally starting to think that Roy was a dupe and when the break-ins started happening, he realized his mistake and was trying to cover it up. It was such a clumsy thing to do, too. I mean if Larry had been conducting a counterfeiting operation for six years, completely undetected, with Roy's help, willing or otherwise, he wouldn't put a shit load of scrutiny on resort security, but telling him to cause a major security breech.

"Babe," Ranger said, to get my attention.

"What? Sorry, I was thinking," I said.

"I could see that," Ranger said. He nodded towards Rory.

"We're going to need your recordings of the interviews you conducted at Nadia Silverton's," Rory said.

"Oh, sure," I said and opened the voice memo app on my phone and emailed him the whole thing.

"Did they know you were recording?" Roman asked.

"Hard to say; I wasn't exactly covert about starting the recording," I said, "I only did it so I didn't have to interrupt the flow of conversation."

"Okay, I have phone calls to make and warrants to obtain. I want to do this by the close of business," Rory said, "I don't want your security to have a heads up until it's over. We don't know if Roy was involved, and we don't know if any of the other staff was complicit."

"I'm going to have Ric take over, effective immediately; we'll use Roy's recent termination as a cause for Rangeman to come in and conduct an internal investigation," Roman said, "None of the tenants will see anything wrong with this; I hire from within all the time."

"We're going to have to work out some details before I can do that," Ranger said.

"Work fast," Rory said.

Ranger tossed me his keys, "You're going to be bored," He said, "Go back to the office, and I'll have someone pick me up."

"I can take you," Rory said to me, "It's on my way and will save the ozone a bit."

"Works for me," I said.

I tossed Ranger back his keys and followed Rory down to the parking lot.

"Big day tomorrow," Rory said, once we were a few blocks away from Chase's office. Rory's car was an ancient BMW convertible that sounded like it needed a serious engine overhaul, as we rattled through the streets towards Rangeman.

"Huh?"

"You're getting married, or did you forget?" Rory teased.

"How did you know that?" I asked with a laugh, "I thought only Ranger and I knew?"

"Ric told me; I'm going to be one of your witnesses if you have no objections?" he said.

"No, none," I said and grinned, "I didn't think Ranger would be willing to grab two strangers off of the street."

"No," Rory said with a laugh, "He's not that trusting."

"How long have you known him?"

"Since Ranger School," Rory said, "I washed out, I could not have been more pissed either."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Made it all the way to Camp Rudder; through fifty-five days of training out of 65, and I woke up one morning sick as a fucking dog. Fever of 105 and I couldn't move because I was in excruciating pain, thanks to a parasite. I was medivac to a hospital for emergency surgery. I'll save you the gory details, but I developed a heart murmur, amongst other things, and washed out of the military altogether," he said.

"So you took up law?" I said.

"I still get to serve, and I fight bad guys a different way," Rory said, "And I'm one of the few men who gets Ric, so I work with him a lot."

"Are you close with Chase too?"

"Not like Ric is," Rory said, "See Chase was the one who taught Ric that the world wasn't black and white; that you could still be good while manipulating the gray."

"I thought he learned that when he was younger?" I said.

"Nope," Rory said, "Ric's first mission out was a clusterfuck of epic proportions. What basically happened was Ric overheard a briefing between Chase and their CO, a guy by the name of Devries. Ric went up to Chase after the briefing and told him that he was was almost certain that they were using false intelligence. Strategically speaking, if the recent radio traffic and troop movement were seen as a game of chess, this was the endgame and they were about to walk into an ambush."

"Did Chase take it up the chain of command?" I asked.

"Fuck no, he called Ric a bunch of uncomplimentary names, and told him not to worry his pretty little head about things that were above his paygrade. Of course, it was a fucking ambush; their CO wigged out, nobody knows why; Chase got shot, and they were totally pinned down. Chase told me he'll never forget Ric; he was cool as ice, only one who wasn't freaking out and he looked at Chase, who he had just saved from a fucking Grenade and said, 'I'm not dying because you're a fucking idiot,' and took command of the unit."

"What happened after that?" I asked.

"Ric was Court Marshaled for mutiny," Rory said.

"What!? But he saved everybody's lives," I protested.

"He broke the law. Nobody gave him command; he just walked over and punched out their CO, who was just putting them in more danger with his meltdown, and started issuing orders."

"Obviously, he was found innocent," I said.

"Ric was totally prepared to accept the consequences of his actions, and then Chase took the stand. Ric was found innocent, and not only received a Bronze Star for bravery, but got himself a ticket to Ranger training."

"What did Chase say?" I asked.

"Everybody and their dog testified that Ric hit their CO, but there were extenuating circumstances because DeVries was unfit for command. If he hadn't been incapacitated, they would have been killed. They also testified to Ric's insubordination before he took command," Rory grinned. "This is the part of the story I always liked because it's so Chase. He gets up to testify; he's in open court, and at this point everybody believes two things: Ric is a hero who saved several lives, and yeah, he committed mutiny. Ric doesn't deny anything he's done; he's simply saying it wasn't mutiny. Chase sits down, being charming like only he can be, and says, 'Yeah, he called me a fucking idiot, because I was being a fucking idiot, and after I told him it was insubordination, I ordered him to take command.' "

"But nobody heard him say it?" I asked.

"He said it was because he was weak from blood loss and shock, so he wasn't speaking very loud, not enough to be heard over the gunfire. Now, the judge knew Chase was lying, everybody in the courthouse knew he was lying, but everybody also wanted to give Ric a medal, and they just needed an excuse to drop the charges. Ric was about to protest when Roman passed him on the way out of the courtroom and said something to him. Don't know what exactly, but if you ask Ranger about it, it's what made him realize that the world wasn't always black and white. You know Ranger, he's pragmatic to almost a fault, so whatever Roman said to him made sense to him, and he shut his trap."

"And they stayed close afterward?"

"Yeah, they have an odd relationship. Roman sees Ric as a little brother who needs guidance, and Ric sees Roman as the pain in the ass, drunk uncle that everybody loves because he's fun and has all of the money."

"Is he going to be our other witness?" I asked.

"I don't know who your other witness is going to be, but you don't have to worry about it being a Manoso or any of that clan; he wouldn't inflict that pain on you. Inviting one of them, and not all of them would be worse than eloping."

I could see that; it would be the same for my family. They were going to be pissed that we eloped, no question, but as long as we did it in a church, in front of a priest, they woud accept it. One member being invited would be like, saying 'Hey, this one here's my favorite; I hate the rest of you.' You'd never hear the end of it.

Rory pulled into the Rangerman parking lot and I fished my keys out of my bag, "Thanks for the lift," I said as I got out of the car.

"See you tomorrow," he said with a wave, and I walked up to the doors and fobbed my way in.

A few minutes later I was parked at Ranger's desk, twiddling my thumbs, trying to figure out what the hell I should be doing now. With nothing better to do, my mystery solved, Nadia's freak out now unimportant, I logged into my Rangeman account and started a search for all owners on record for chocolate plantations in Peru. It was going to take the computer some time to spit stuff out, so I started playing solitaire.

I was playing Vegas rules and down about a thousand (thankfully fictional) dollars, when there was a tap on the office door. I looked up to see Bulldog standing in the doorway, "S'up?"

"Just got a call from Lester," Bulldog said, "Sort of an odd situation going on in Trenton and I kinda thought you'd be the best one to break it to the boss."

This couldn't be good, "What?" I asked.

"Mama Manoso just crashed Rangerman's offices, and she wasn't too happy. Took Santos about twenty minutes and a trip up to seven to convince her that you and Ranger weren't in residence. She's demanding to know where you are, and Les is sort of hoping you can handle it."

"I don't know what he wants me to do about it," I said, "She's Lester's aunt; I met her like one time while Ranger was in the hospital, and I was a bit distracted at the time."

"Les says that she's been hanging out with your mother," Buldog said. I thunked my forehead down on the desk.

"Shit," I said, "Does he have any idea why she's upset?"

"She wouldn't say," Bulldog said.

"Go, this might not be pretty," I said.

"Better you than me," He said, I waved he and left.

I picked up my phone and checked to see if I had any messages, I didn't. I called my grandmother first, to see if I could get read on my mother before I called the house.

She picked up after several rings, and I could hear what sounded like slot machines in the background.

"HELLO?!" she shouted into the phone.

"Hey grandma," I said.

"Oh, hi! I forgot to call you! Just a minute I can't hear a darned thing!" she yelled again. When she spoke again, I heard a lot of voices in the background, but it sounded like she was outside, "That's better."

"I just wanted to see how mom handled the news that Ranger and I were engaged for real?" I said.

"Oh she doesn't know yet," Grandma said, "I forgot to tell you."

"Why didn't you tell her?" I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Well I thought I would take a nap after I got off of the phone with you; when I got up, she'd gone out again to look after the girls because Mary Alice fell off of her bike and needed stitches. She didn't get back until late, and I was already in bed."

"So why didn't you tell her in the morning?" I asked.

"Oh well that's a funny story, see it was your mom's day to look after the girls and she was off taking them to school, when my friend Hazel Matzen called. See Hazel and her husband Donnie, they were supposed to be going to Vegas together but Donnie's doctor told him he wasn't allowed to fly, so she had an extra ticket and she asked me if I wanted to come with her. We had to leave right away so I told your father about you and Ranger, and he said he'd break the news to her."

"And dad didn't tell mom?" I asked.

"Well, you're going to have to ask him that," she said, "But I don't think so because she didn't say anything about it when I called."

"Thanks Grandma," I said. I got off of the phone with her and dialed home. My mother picked up after a few rings.

"Plum residence," she said.

"Hi mom," I said, "How are you?"

"Oh certainly much better today, thank you for asking. Yesterday was a bit bad but they fitted an air cast today and it's much more comfortable," she said.

"A what?!"

"Oh, of course, you don't know! It's these painkillers they have me on; they make me so forgetful."

"What happened, mom?" I asked.

"Well, it snowed again and that nice boy, Carlos, he came over to shovel the walk. He told me that it was quite icy, and we were out of salt for the stairs, and he was having someone from Rangeman come over with some more. Not two minutes later, I went outside to see if I could offer him some cocoa since it's so cold and wouldn't you know, I slipped and fell down the stairs. I've broken my foot, but it's not a bad break."

"Did Bobby look at you?" I asked. Sure, the doctors at St. Francis were great, but really, Bobby was the best.

"He did, he was right here when it happened; he was babysitting Carlos," she said. "He's very good, had me on the way to the hospital with my foot in a splint before I even realized how hurt I was."

"And you're okay now? Who's looking after you if grandma is in Vegas?"

"Your father is being quite the dear! Do you know he's even helping me cook? Bobby said it's very important that I don't spend any time on my feet for the next few days, because it could make the injury worse and I might need surgery. So your father, for the first time in forty years of marriage, is cooking and cleaning and doing everything I'm telling him to, without an argument. I must say it feels like he's buttering me up for something, but it has been a nice few days, so I'm going to let him," She giggled, "He's very sweet. He even asked me if I wanted him to lower the ironing board so I had something to do to take my mind off of my foot. You don't realize it, because he's your father, but he used to be sweet like this all the time, and I didn't know how much I missed it."

"Mom, are you high?" I asked. My mother didn't usually babble.

"I am a bit giddy, but I'm allowed to be, it's the painkillers, they make me a bit silly and then I take a nice nap," she said.

"Uh-huh," I said, "Is dad home?"

"He is, but he's outside at the moment, did you need something dear?"

"Yes, actually, but it can wait. I gather Mrs. Manoso visited you?"

"Oh yes, lovely woman, beautiful name. Alita Manoso, I have to tell you that she's not too fond of the name 'Ranger' he has such a lovely name too. It just rolls off the tongue; it's musical if you think about it. Ricardo Carlos," She said, rolling the R's in his name and sighed, "So pretty."

Holy shit, this would be funny if I wasn't trying to figure out why Ranger's mother was pissed. If I'd known mom was like this, I'd have recorded the conversation to use later when she started nagging me about something.

"Why was she there?" I asked.

"Oh that! Yes, she came to visit because she was wondering how she could get in touch with Carlos, because she found out about your engagement."

"What did you tell her?" I asked.

"I felt it was probably best to tell her the truth," she said.

"Oh God," I said.

"Oh don't worry, dear; she promised she'd keep it to herself. We had a nice visit and she seems very lovely and then she left," mom said, "I did say that I'd call her if you got in touch, she wanted to know when you were going to be home. I had to tell her I didn't know."

"We're wrapping up, but I'm not sure if we're going to be leaving for Peru from here or from Trenton. I need to talk to Vinnie," I said.

"Peru? Why are you going to Peru?" mom asked with a huge yawn. Now normally she would excuse herself for doing that, but I think she was too high to care.

"A skip of mine is there," I said.

"You should go see Machu Picchu while you're there! Oh and you should bring me back some of that rare chocolate," mom said.

"How do you know about it?" I asked. I was a dessert expert and I'd only just heard of it.

"Oh the Happy Gourmet raved about it in the paper a few months back; I meant to show you the article because I thought it would be excellent in a cake," Mom said, "Or in a torte."

Note to self: Get mom the chocolate. About the only thing she made that even came close to her Pineapple Upsidedown Cake, was German Chocolate Torte, but it was a production that mom only ever went through when she was bribing me to do something I really wasn't going to like.

"Mom, have you ever heard of a woman named Greta Robinson?" I asked. I don't know why I didn't ask her before; the odds were pretty high that mom would have heard of her. I was sort of hoping the Happy Gourmet wasn't Jankowitz, but maybe a girlfriend we could exploit for information.

"The only Greta Robinson I know is a friend of your grandmother's. Mom likes to visit with her when she wants to look younger," she said.

"Is she 145 or something?" I asked. Grandma wouldn't hang out with younger people if she wanted to look younger, it would only draw attention to the fact her skin didn't fit.

"Stephanie, don't be rude!" my mother's censure might have had an effect if it hadn't come in a fit of giggles,"But your grandmother did go to her 100th birthday party."

That was rare in Trenton; I mean your life expectancy was shortened simply by breathing the air.

"Why did you want to know who she was?" mom asked.

"Oh the name came up in our investigation, and I hadn't heard it before," I said, "It's not the same woman since I'm looking for someone younger." Probably. I heard the door slam on the other end of the phone and some Italian cursing.

"Oh your father has come in; did you still want to talk to him?" she asked. She followed it up by another yawn.

"Yeah," I said, "Mom before you get off the phone there's something..." I didn't finish because I heard a soft snore before the phone clattered to the floor.

"Jesus Christ," I heard my father mutter in the background, then he picked up the phone, "Who is this?"

"Dad," I said, "Hi, it's Stephanie. Is mom okay?"

"She's just asleep; the pain killers give her god damned narcolepsy," he said, "Were you calling for something important?"

"No, but you didn't tell her I was getting married, did you." I said, it wasn't a question. I knew the answer already; she clearly didn't know.

"Christ no," he said, "Your sister is falling apart because the kids have gone to school one day out of the last ten, thanks to this fucking snow, and have cabin fever. Now your mother is laid up with this fucking foot, and the doctors are thinking she's going to need surgery. She doesn't need to be worried about you, on top of it all."

"Are you worried about me?" I asked.

"Are you happy? Healthy? Relatively safe?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then I'm fucking ecstatic," he said, "Shit, do you have any idea how to make a god damned meatloaf?"

"No," I said, "Last time I tried, grandma helped me and it ended up looking like troll balls."

"I'm never going to be able to look at meatloaf the same way again," Dad said. He hung up the phone on me, and I had to grin. The idea of dad cooking was something I wish I could see right now.

With the image of my father trying to fill my mother's apron and heels in my head, I clicked open one of the Rangeman search programs designed to comb through news sources for specific information. I narrowed the search to Trenton, and birthday salutations for Greta Robinson.

It didn't take long to spit out an item from a local television station about Greta's induction into the League of Extraordinary Centenarians. The station conducted an interview asking her to talk about all of the historic things she'd witnessed and the secrets to her longevity. The clip ended with her seated in a wheelchair, in her nursing home, surrounded by her family and her only great-grandchild as they sang happy birthday to her. I held my breath hoping she didn't pass out trying to blow out the inferno of candles on the cake in front of her, when it became obvious she had help. The camera panned out to show Jankowitz. That was weird. The file said he had no living relatives, yet this was a huge family and he was clearly a part of it.

The video was from roughly a year ago, making the woman 101, and I highly doubted she could maintain a blog and go to all of the restaurants in New York, and New Jersey, that the Happy Gourmet frequented. Especially since it looked like she was having difficulty managing the interview. Just to be certain, I looked her address up on the internet and called the nursing home in case she was like Grandma and was refusing to age gracefully.

I pretended to be a reporter looking to interview her for an article on Trenton's oldest citizens and was put through to a nurse who told me that Gretta suffered a stroke a few months ago. That was right around the time Jankowitz's wife stepped out on him, and the SEC began their investigation. No wonder he lost his shit. The call did confirm my suspicions; according to the nurse Gretta was currently hooked up to machines, unable to breathe without help; she definitely wasn't writing the column.

I watched the video again, I was missing something, I knew I was, but what? In the video you could see genuine fondness between Jankowitz and his great grandmother; it wasn't the act of a man waiting for a little old lady to die so he could benefit from an inheritance, he cared about her a great deal. So why did it bother me? I played the video through several more times; the more I played it, the more I felt like there was an idea floating around in my head that I just couldn't quite grasp.

"Is there going to be a test on the lyrics to the Birthday Song, later?" Ranger asked from the door and I nearly had a heart attack.

"You like scaring the shit out of me don't you?" I said when my heart restarted.

"I really do," he said with a grin, "What's up with the video?"

"I have proof, more or less, that Jankowitz is the Happy Gourmet and that Greta Robinson is more than just a name on a bank account somewhere," I said. I crooked a finger at him, and he came around the desk to watch the video.

"Interesting," he said.

"Why?" I asked, hoping, like with the garage doors, his experience would pick out what I was missing.

"When you gave me her name, I ran her through the computer; the address on file for her at the Newspaper, is a PO Box in Manhatten that is paid for, in cash, by a company that doesn't exist. In the last twenty years, there have been approximately 98 different Greta Robinsons living in or were born within a reasonable driving distance of, Trenton, 308 in the US. We've been running the social security numbers of any of the dead Greta Robinsons, to see if their identities were being used to open any accounts or businesses in the last year or so."

"Why dead?"

"Easier to steal the identity of someone who's dead," Ranger said, "We've been focusing on them because we had to narrow the field a bit; if nothing turned up, we'd run the others."

"So now we know which Greta Robinson to look for, and she's not dead, not yet anyway,' I said. He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow, "She's on life support after having a massive stroke."

"What was the address of the nursing home?" he asked. I handed it to him and he put it into the computer, used whatever (I'm sure not legal) program he had that found social security numbers and then sent the information to Hector so he could begin his search.

"Jankowitz's name isn't mentioned in the video, how did you find this?" Ranger asked.

"Jankowitz was a friend of Vinnie's, I figured there might be a Burg connection. Why else would anyone make friends with Vinnie unless they had something big in common? So I asked mom, and she said Grandma was friends with a Greta Robinson," I said.

Ranger chuckled, "Of course that's how you found her."

"Hey, don't feel bad, you would have gotten there eventually," I said.

"I should have cultivated a relationship with a girl from the Burg years ago; it would have saved me a lot of time and money," he said and tugged my ponytail.

"Not a good idea," I said, "Burg girls think you're sexy, but they are afraid of you."

"You're not," he said.

"I'm weird," I said, "And probably more than a little crazy."

"Just a little?" he asked with a grin.

"Hey, speaking of crazy!" I said brightly, "Your mom stormed Rangeman and put the fear of God into the Trenton boys. She knows about our fake engagement being fake."

"Does she now?" he said. I filled him in on that saga. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number. Either he was calling to put the fear of _Ranger_ into someone, or he was calling his mother.

"You could have called and left a message; I would have called you back. You didn't need to torment Lester," he said and leaned his ass up against the desk. He pulled the phone away from his ear and turned the volume down before putting listening again. He was getting a blast of shit in a combination of Spanish and English. I couldn't quite make out the words, but it didn't take a genius to figure out she was pissed at him.

He didn't look remotely bothered; his only reaction, beyond adjusting the phone volume, was to scratch an itch on his left bicep while she ranted. The yelling stopped and he said, "Are you finished?"

That set her off again. It was sort of nice to know that I wasn't the only one who basically talked to myself when I called Ranger. I mean sure, I had like seven numbers for him and he pretty much always answered my calls, which I knew made me special, but it could be pretty annoying talking to nearly dead air.

"We're getting married tomorrow," he said and disconnected.

"RANGER!" I only just didn't yell in horror. If we'd been in the house, it would have echoed for weeks, "You just hung up on your mother!"

"She's used to it," he said and checked his watch, "I'm meeting Chase at Reef Knot in two hours. We should go so I can drop you off and pack a bag for tomorrow."

"Ranger!" I said again.

"Babe, she's pissed because she thinks I was using your love for me to get you to do a job," he said.

"You were," I said.

"Does it piss you off?" he asked.

"Well, no. It's not like you didn't tell me up front," I said.

"Then don't worry about it," he said.

I followed him down to the car and got into the passenger seat. We were out of the parking lot when I couldn't hold it in anymore because my eye was starting to twitch.

"But she's your mother!" I blurted out, "I would have thought... I mean with the way you speak about Rosa that you would have been, I dunno... less short? More respectful? You spoke to her the way you speak to your men!" That out of my system, I deflated and my eye stopped twitching.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Yeah, sorry," I said, "Sometimes I can't suppress the Burg influence. You don't need to answer, It's none of my business how you speak to your mother."

"My mother has a hard time remembering I'm not an angry, bored, idiot kid, with impulse control issues," Ranger said.

"Ranger," I said, "You shot off a man's ear yesterday because he quasi-threatened me. You may still have impulse control issues when you're angry."

"It wasn't impulsive Babe; I spent a good five minutes debating whether or not I wanted to shoot him in the ear, or take out a knee cap. I figured the ear would impress you more."

I rolled my eyes, and laughed, "You're terrible. What does your mother's natural tendency to look at you like you're her baby, have to do with you being impersonal on the phone?"

"On any given day something comes across my desk that is more fucked up than anything she could even contemplate. I have more important things to deal with than a woman who is hell bent on seeing nothing but the worst in me because it's become habit for her. She doesn't care that we are consenting adults going into this with our eyes open, and she doesn't care what job we're doing. All she sees right now is her son disappointing her yet again by manipulating a woman who loves him. She said one thing worth responding to, so I did."

"What did she say?" I asked.

"She wanted to know what I was going to do with you when the assignment was over," he said. "I went with the short answer because I didn't think you'd appreciate me going into detail. I'll call her again later when she's had a chance to cool down."

"Well now I'm really interested in the details," I said.

"We can't make a move on Jankowitz until the DEA and the State Department get their shit together; so we have some time to kill. I was thinking of using that time to conduct an extensive home inspection to determine if we're really interested in keeping the property."

"Why wouldn't I want her to know that?"

"The inspection is going to involve thoroughly fucking you on every available surface inside the house," he said conversationally.

"Yeah," I said, my mouth suddenly dry, "I'm glad you didn't share that with your mother. Though if that's your idea of a home inspection, it could get awkward if we decide to look at another house."

He chuckled and slipped into his driving zone, I let him stay there for another fifteen minutes before I changed the subject, "What is the plan for the arrests?"

"Two teams are going to come in, in plain clothes, as though they are coming to our place for a party. They will then proceed to the Ratcliffe and Frankish households where they will execute simultaneous arrests, so neither can be spooked by the other."

"What's Frankish going to be charged with?"

"Several counts of Burglary and Trespass," Ranger said.

"What do you think about what Stan said? About there being a reason for Larry's crime that we probably should consider?"

"It could just be Stan trying to get into your head," Ranger said, "But Rory will make sure he's questioned thoroughly. Would you feel more comfortable if I were there for the interrogation?"

"If you can be," I said. Ranger wouldn't keep anything from me, where official law enforcement types would.

When we got back to the house, Ranger jogged up the stairs to pack a bag, and I went out to the patio to wait for Milessa to get there with my dress. I felt uneasy about what Ranger was about to do; if they rounded up both Frankish and Larry in one afternoon, without much fight, it was going to seem too easy. I mean the whole thing sort of fell into place with very little drama. I followed each clue; I found the pattern, I solved all of the little mini-mysteries and then the answer was just dumped in our laps. Was it easy because it had nothing to do with murders or mobsters and the guy we were after wasn't, in fact, bat-shit crazy, just pissed?

Ranger came out to the patio while I sat sideways on one of the deck chairs thinking about this.

"Do you want me to come back after the arrests?" He asked.

"No, you're going to be busy," I said and got to my feet.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's too easy," I said.

"Just because it lacks calamity, doesn't mean it's easy," Ranger said, "Do you feel like we're missing something?"

"Yes? No? I don't know?" I said.

"Do you want me to keep your guard in place?" he asked.

"No," I said, "I have Hector, I'll be fine."

"Hal and Cal will be back on the boat after the arrests," Ranger said, "If anything makes you feel uncomfortable, and I mean anything, even if you think it's in your head, call them in."

"Will do," I said. I shoved my hands in my pockets, and felt suddenly shy, "So, 2:00?"

"Hector will drive you to the church; he knows where it is," he said.

"Is he our second witness?" I asked. I had absolutely no problem with that. Over the last few days, I'd really come to love him. Ranger shook his head.

"I hope you don't mind, but I asked Julie," Ranger said and gently cupped my cheek. I beamed at him; of course, Julie should be there.

"It's really happening?" I said.

"Yes," he said, "Cold feet?"

"Nope," I said, "You?"

"No," he said. He kissed me goodbye and then he was gone.

Milessa showed up about ten minutes after he left, and after a little fussing, my wedding dress was perfect and hanging draped under a sheet from the railing at the top of the stairs to the bedroom. The train was longer than I anticipated and the height of the upper railing to the ground floor was the only place we could hang it without worrying about putting a crease in the dress.

She saw herself out while I changed into one of Ranger's t-shirts and had a quiet dinner of leftovers, some of which I heated and took to Hector in his cave. He was up to his ears in coding and thanked me by giving me a thumbs up, and I went back upstairs. With nothing better to do, and a bunch of restless energy, I decided to organize the case files and summarize my notes in the event Rory wanted me to testify.

The wind picked up as I was laying out the papers, and not wanting to wrestle with them, I closed up the house, then got comfortable at the dining room table, powered up my laptop and while I waited for it to boot I put the case files in order.

Pool, sex games, dishes, I reached for the Frankish household's dirty laundry and paused. We forgot one. The pots, Cheryl's husband, was cooking the books. It came before the Frankish House, and fit the pattern a hell of a lot more than the sheets did. The rest all fell into place like it should, so we were missing a break-in. That's probably what had been bothering me, in the back of my mind I knew we'd forgotten the Winslow family.

The missing blank had to be Nadia; in the interest of thoroughness, I found the results of the search I'd begun on her. There was nothing really exciting about her life. The only thing of note that was a little weird, but not really, was that Nadia met Liam when her mother acted as his foster mother when he was put into the foster system for a brief stint as a teenager. They kept in touch until they met again in College and started dating. It was there that she met his cousins Andrew (Drew) Moore, and Daniel Winslow.

"It's really just one big happy family here, isn't it?" I said. It was also noted in the research that Drew had done a brief stint in the foster system. What the hell for? I put their names in the search engines and let them percolate.

While that was doing its thing Ranger's search from earlier, pinged and I opened it. I felt a bit schizophrenic as my mind happily jumped from the break-ins to Jankowitz. Greta Robinson's profile popped up and with it, a detail that practically jumped off of the page at me. Greta was a foster mother.

"What are the odds of that?" I muttered to myself.

There was another newspaper article about her, from twenty years ago, where they discussed how she changed the lives of hundreds of children over the years. She started fostering children when she and her husband discovered they couldn't have kids of their own. They adopted the first boy placed in their care, he grew up and married but was killed in Korea just after his wife gave birth to their only child, Donna. She too died tragically young, after a medical error during the delivery of her son, Ronald (Ronnie) Jankowitz. Jankowitz's father drank himself to death when Ronnie was eighteen, and Ronnie moved in with Greta while he was in college.

So while Ronnie didn't have any legal family he might call on for help, he would have foster relatives he might be close to. According to the records, Greta had no living biological family and yet the newspaper and the video, referred to her celebrating her birthday surrounded by family. Presumably, they meant her foster children. I found the YouTube video again and zipped to the end; there were at least twelve other people in the frame, and if they were all there at the nursing home, odds were, that for security purposes, the home would have had a guest list for the party. I checked my watch; it was after 8:00, I highly doubted anyone with the authority to access the list, would still be at work, so I made a note to check in the morning. My brain was now screaming at me that I was onto something huge.

The search alert sounded again, and I glanced over at the pop up. W. Liam Silverton. I frowned at his name on the screen; it was underlined and written in blue font. It was an indication that he had a legally changed his name at some point. It wasn't something that would show up in a preliminary search. I clicked on his name, and it brought up another name, Liam Silva. "What the fuck?" this name was also underlined and highlighted in blue.

The YouTube video caught my eye just before I clicked to follow that link and my blood went cold. I knew what had been bothering me. On the back of Greta's chair was a delicate hand, with perfectly manicured nails, emerging from the sleeve of a perfectly wrinkle free blouse, and on that hand was an enormous engagement ring. Specifically, Candice's enormous engagement ring. I clicked the link, and my suspicions were confirmed. Wilburt Liam Stokes. Born to parents Mariana Silva Stokes and Wilburt Stokes. Place of birth: Bogata, Columbia.

"Holy shit!" I reached for my phone and knocked it off of the table where it shattered on the stone floor. I ran into the kitchen to find the land line and I stopped dead when I looked at the counter.

Next to the coffee maker was a piece of paper listing Ranger's medals and commendations. The Bronze Star was highlighted. The similarity between DeeDee and us, wasn't a record sealed to protect an innocent. It was that there were two cases where someone who was blatantly guilty, didn't face punishment. In fact, they both profited from their crimes. DeeDee with her second book, Ranger by becoming a Ranger. That he saved lives and had done the right thing was irrelevant. That DeeDee's past had been exposed probably had more to do with the fact that there were minor similarities between the two cases and Frankish was obsessed with... It wasn't Frankish, Frankish should be in jail right now. And this paper hadn't been on the counter when I made supper.

I was about to yell for Hector when a pillow case was yanked over my face and a hand clamped down over my nose and mouth. I fought hard as an arm wrapped around my waist, and yanked me off of my feet, clamping me to a large, hard, male body. Another set of hands took hold of my ankles, and they began to carry me towards the door. I felt behind me, hoping to scratch the face of one of my assailants, thinking he might drop me. My nails scraped against clean shaven skin, but he just pressed his hand tighter over my face until my lungs screamed for air and I felt the world start to go dark.


	17. Chapter 17

**_AN: Enjoy! Thanks for all of the reviews! You guys are really great!_**

 _Fuck it's humid; Ranger must have left the window open again._ I thought as I woke up. I went to move, and something was very wrong. My shoulders were aching, and something was digging into my left wrist. It was the pain that brought me to the abrupt realization that I wasn't in bed. I was sitting on the floor with my back up against a wall and the thing digging into my wrist was my watch, because my hands were bound over my head by leather cuffs.

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness. I tested my restraints and found I had several feet of play in the chain attaching the two cuffs; it felt like they were looped through something on the wall above me. I had no idea what time it was, because I couldn't actually see my watch but I felt weirdly rested, so I was betting I'd been out for a while. Where the hell was I? I attempted to stand up and the world spun a little, like I'd been drugged. I had to grasp my chains to pull myself to my feet.

"Okay Stephanie, think," I said. My voice sounded weird in the room, kind of dead, the acoustic opposite to the house, and I decided not to think out loud. Besides it freaked me out. I mean, what if someone was watching on a night vision camera somewhere, like in Saw. _Focus Stephanie!_ That was easier said than done. The air was suffocating, my head was throbbing, and sweat was stinging my eyes.

Okay if it's the morning and Hector doesn't hear me moving around, he's going to pull up my trackers, I thought. Only that wouldn't do us any good because I was wearing Ranger's T-Shirt and he didn't have trackers in his clothes. He had the subcutaneous one he'd been threatening me with. There was a chance that Hector would think something was wrong when he realized they were all at home, but there was also a chance he would think I was just wearing new clothes without the trackers in them.

"Damn," I said, it came out as more of a sob of frustration. It was probably my wedding day, and I was missing it because I had been kidnapped... again. And all of the trackers in the world were absolutely useless if I didn't wear them. I mean the only thing of mine I was wearing was my watch and all it was doing right now was hurting me.

That thought stopped me in my tracks. Why the hell did I forget I was wearing James Bond's watch? I banged my wrist up against the wall and didn't feel the double tap. I wriggled my arm around a bit so the leather restraint wasn't cushioning the watch and banged it again. Electric pain, similar to the pain of hitting your funny bone, shot up my arm as the back of the watch slammed into my wrist bone, and I almost missed the light, taps, letting me know it was working. I waited for the pain to subside and then I started talking.

"I don't know where I am. I'm in a basement I think because it's dark, pitch black and I don't see any windows. I'm restrained, and it's really hot," I said.

"You're talking to yourself; this might be more effective than I thought."

Like mine, Drew's voice was unnaturally loud and didn't echo in the silence like you might expect from a basement, but we were definitely subterranean.

I heard a light switch flip, and managed to close my eyes so I wasn't completely blinded by the sudden brightness. I slowly peaked them opened to look at him and assess what was going on in the room. The room had what looked like Cedar walls, with a bunch of empty wooden shelves. The only thing on any of the shelves was a polished wooden tray with a couple of cigars in it. From the looks of it, we were in a mostly empty humidor. I needed to communicate that to Ranger, but I couldn't say it.

"Where am I?" I asked and a movement on the floor caught my attention. About five feet from me in a heap on the floor was a distinctly human, and female body. Who it was I had no idea. She was wearing a black silk dressing gown over a pale pink neglige, and she had blonde hair. But her features were swollen and unrecognizable thanks to a vicious beating. She had bruises all over her body, and she was barely breathing. The movement I'd seen was an involuntary twitch of her hand.

"We're in Liam's humidor," Drew said, "Liam is currently busy, arranging the movement of an asset of ours."

"Jankowitz," I guessed.

"Very good, but of course you already knew he was in Florida. So maybe it's not much of a leap after all. No, the real question is, how did you come across that information in the first place? The only thing I can figure is that we have a leak somewhere, and I'd like to plug that hole," Drew said.

Fuck, of all the lies to have come back and bite me in the ass. This is why my mom didn't say I was unlucky. I was really fucking lucky. What were the odds that a skip worth probably the biggest payday I'd ever see from Vinnie, just happened to be hiding in a resort that I was visiting with Ranger while on what appeared to be an entirely unrelated job? From a convenience and financial standpoint, that was great news. However, considering I was chained to a wall, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt, and at the mercy of a man with ties to a Columbian Drug Cartel, I was pretty hard pressed to consider this luck, 'good.'

"There's no leak," I said, "Nadia saw me working by the pool on the Jankowitz case, and because it was fresh in my mind it was the first thing that popped into my head when Candice asked me why we were here."

"That's one hell of a coincidence," Drew said.

"That's how my life works. Seriously, ask anybody about my luck," I said. My throat was really dry despite the humidity and my voice sounded croaky.

"I might almost buy that if Nadia here," Drew walked closer towards me and nudged the heap of human on the floor with his toe, "Hadn't seen you talking to a man you claim is a mobster. She said you were doing him a favor in exchange for information, and clearly that information had to do with Ronnie. I want to know who he was, and what he told you."

"Oh my God!" I said, in exasperation, "I was lying! I work for Vincent Plum, Harry the Hammer's son in law. Harry was pissed because he thought I was taking a vacation when I had a million dollar skip in the wind. He sent Nicky Moretti, to check up on me."

"Now I know you're lying, because if by Nicky Moretti, you mean Nicky the Sparrow, what you're saying can't be the truth. Nicky doesn't leave Trenton unless Harry leaves Trenton," Drew said.

"Fine, whatever," I said, "Why the hell did you draw attention to yourselves by kidnapping me? Seriously, wouldn't it have just been easier to spirit Ronnie away? It doesn't matter that I made the connection between you and Ronnie. At best it's circumstantial evidence. Greta fostered hundreds of children in Trenton; it doesn't mean they all helped him escape."

"It wasn't my call," Drew said with a shrug, "They want to know where the leak is and my orders are to extract that information from you, using whatever means necessary."

"I'm telling you the truth," I growled, "I told you the truth in the coffee shop; I found him through his column. That's how I look for people. I don't have the connections Ranger does, and I don't like people thinking he does all the heavy lifting for me, so I do things like look my skips' family and friends. Ronnie doesn't have family and his only friend on Twitter was someone I thought was his mom. It didn't even occur to me until this afternoon that all my information about his family conflicted."

"I have to say, I'm really enjoying this Stephanie," Drew said, with a laugh. The bastard was so fucking charming; he had a nice warm laugh and his pleasantness made the situation feel so much worse, "I like how you can sling bullshit so earnestly. It's a fun game; I'll play for now. Ronnie's mom has been dead for a long time; since he was a kid, and Twitter wasn't around when we were kids, so don't try to tell me she friended him before she died. Nice try, though."

"No no, listen; there are a surprising number of Ronald Jankowitzes. most of his twitter feed is about people asking him if he's a different Ronald. This woman probably followed him thinking she was following her son, got corrected and never posted again."

"Stephanie, I know what you're doing! You're buying time, and you're doing a an excellent job of it too," he said, "It's okay, you don't need to try and stall because I'm going to give you lots of time! You're just not going to like it."

"You lay a finger on me, and Ranger is going to kill you very slowly," I said.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Drew said, "Nadia looks like she does because she fucked up. It's her fault you even started looking."

"No, it's not. Chase brought us in," I said.

"Chase brought you in because Brandon's temper tantrum drew attention to the holes in Roy's security. You were brought in to do an audit. Roman told me that's why you were getting the house," he said. "You're very convincing Stephanie; you have an answer for everything, but I don't believe you."

"I am telling the truth," I said for the hundredth time. I really didn't want him to leave the room. I could talk for a long time, but I knew that if he left the room, whatever happened next was going to be bad.

"We'll see," he said, "Let me tell you a little something about the human brain, Miss Plum. If you watch a brain on an fMRI while you ask a subject questions, you can see that it takes a great deal more brain activity to tell a lie than it does to tell the truth. The truth is simple, but a lie? You have to remember so much to sell a convincing lie and the images on the screen light up like Christmas."

"Are you going to put me in an fMRI Machine?" I asked, "I mean cool and all, but I'm not claustrophobic, so it's not going to be a big deal for me."

"Very funny. Clearly, Liam isn't hiding a giant magnet in his basement, so we have to think of different ways to exploit this intelligence. What I'm going to do Stephanie, is impair your cognitive abilities."

Oh boy. This wasn't going to be good. "Are you going to get me drunk? In vino veritas?" I said with far more bravado than I was actually feeling.

"I am so glad you asked, and you're right; that particular aphorism does apply to this theory. Unfortunately for you, that's not what we're going to do. When I first came in, you were confused, and now you're sharp, would you like to know why?"

"I just woke up and my brain takes a while to warm up without coffee," I said.

"You and me both," Drew laughed, "There was another reason however."

"I'm all ears," I said dryly.

"You'll notice that it's rather humid in here, and you've been sweating profusely for several hours. Part of the reason you are finding it difficult to concentrate is that you're becoming dehydrated. Dehydration causes confusion and irritability; as your condition worsens, the more exaggerated the symptoms. The other reason, you were sluggish, is because I lowered the oxygen levels in this room. That, my dear, is why we are in this room. I have total control over your environment. I can control the heat, the humidity, and the amount of oxygen you get to breathe."

Oh Fuck. Oh Fuck. Oh Fuck. Was running through my head like it should be my new mantra.

"Since I brought Nadia in, I've increased the Oxygen levels again, and the more you get, the more your brain is recovering." He said.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Okay, think Stephanie, while your brain still works, keep him talking about his plan. "Big whoop, you're going to deprive me of oxygen, and I'll take another nap. Are you hoping that I talk in my sleep? You're going to have problems there, because when I dream it's either about Ranger or food, or Ranger with food."

"That's not what will happen. I'm going to let your brain slowly become deprived of oxygen; sleep is simply one of the last symptoms of Hypoxia. First, you'll get giddy, and a bit light headed, then you're going to become disoriented, your brain function will decrease to the point that you won't be physically capable of lying. That's when I'm going to come back to question you."

"You do realize you sound like a Bond villain right now don't you? You've got an elaborate scheme for getting me to talk, and you're going to leave me alone, giving me time to figure out how the hell I'm going to escape. Aren't there less complex schemes?"

"It would be, perhaps more expedient if I were to hurt you, but I don't want to risk getting any of my DNA on you. If you look at your hands, you'll find that we've taken care of your little attack on Richard."

Richard?! How? Why?

I looked down at my hands; I had a surprisingly good manicure, but there was no doubt they were exceptionally clean. The chances of anyone finding tissue under my nails were pretty slim. That they would go that far to ensure that, definitely meant they didn't want me coming out of this alive.

"So here's how this works, you're dehydrated now, which will have a detrimental effect on your cognition, we're going to make that worse."

"How?" I asked.

"I'm going to reduce the humidity in the room to almost nothing, it's going to be very dry in here. Then I'm going to lower the temperature as far as it's going to go. Your body is bathed in sweat right now, and that moisture is going to make you very cold."

"This is a humidor," I said, "Not a fridge."

"No it's not, but I'm not trying to freeze you to death; it's about making you lower your defenses."

"I'm from New Jersey; I'm not going to just start talking to you because I'm a little uncomfortable."

"You're going to be cold, it's going to be dark, you're in a room with a woman who is probably dying, because of you. I'm pretty sure your morale is going to be low. Do you know what that's going to do to your mind when combined with a lack of oxygen?"

"No," I said. Actually yes, since he just told me but, Drew liked the sound of his own voice and I needed to think. He was going to turn the lights out and I needed to figure out how the fuck I was going to get out of here, or at least keep alive until Ranger found me.

So while Drew droned on about how fucked up my mind was going to get from lack of oxygen, I subtly assessed the room. My chains were looped through what looked like one of those rings you hang hand towels on in the bathroom. Clearly I was in a makeshift torture chamber. The plate had been bolted to the wall with what looked like some pretty heavy duty lag bolts, but that was okay because the little screws holding the ring to the plate were notoriously easy to strip, allowing the ring to fall away. The cheap ones were, at any rate. Not only that, but my hands were sweaty. If I couldn't break the plate, I might be able to stretch the leather enough that one of my lubed up wrists might be able to pull free.

Then what?

"It's not going to work Steph," Drew said, "Whatever you're thinking isn't going to work."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" I said.

"If, by some chance, you get out of the restraints (which you won't), this room is closed with an electronic lock that can be disabled by punching in a code on this remote," He held up the remote, "or by an electronic keypad. The keypad is on the outside of the door, and the system goes into full 24-hour lock down if you enter the code incorrectly twice."

"Tell you what, since you seem hell bent on really working the bond villian angle, let's make it interesting. You tell me the code for the door, and if I can get out, you let me go, and I'll get Ranger to go easy on you."

He laughed, "I didn't see what Stanley's fascination with you was, or why men were fighting over you. Yes, you have beautiful eyes, and fantastic legs, but you're at best, pretty, so I'll admit to being confused until this evening. It's your attitude; you have that wonderful mix of intelligence, and humor..."

"Don't forget Smart Assery," I said, "I'm rather proud of being a smart ass."

"How could I forget that?" he chuckled again, his voice lower, "It's that mix that transforms an average woman, from ordinary to beautiful."

Drew came closer to me, his smile now sensual, as his eyes raked over my body. I turned away so that I was facing the wall. Fuck I hoped I wasn't about to really regret trying to keep him in the room. Hurry up Ranger, I thought.

Drew's breath was hot on the back of my neck, and his hand touched the swell of my back through my t-shirt. "I like you a lot Stephanie, I really do. Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed taking my time with you. Maybe I will if this doesn't work," he said.

"Tell me the code, and I won't fight you," I said.

"Liar," he laughed, "But I'll give you the code anyway. I have to whisper it, because Liam doesn't trust Nadia with the code." His lips grazed my ear as he said, "Two-four-seven-six."

His hand grazed the back of my thighs, just below where the t-shirt ended, and I had to fight throwing up. "I'm going to turn the temperature down now and cut oxygen to the room. If Liam is right, and he always is, you'll have about forty minutes worth of air left, once the fan cuts out."

He walked away from me, kicked Nadia in the stomach, and then left the room. I felt a blast of cold air from above begin rapidly chilling the small room, and then it was dark. "Two-Four-Seven-Six," I said. I had no way of knowing if Ranger could actually hear me, or if the code was even right, but I had to do something to keep my mind from focusing on how screwed we were. So I chanted the code to the door lock. I felt around on the wall for the towel ring and pulled myself up until all of my weight was on it. There was an ominous creak of protesting wood, and then a loud crack as the cedar splintered and the whole portion of the wall the boards the plate was bolted to, ripped away. I wasn't prepared for such a quick release and the plate cracked me on the head hard enough to knock me on my ass.

I know I cried out when it happened, and I could feel what was either blood or tears or both trickling down my cheeks.

"I'm okay," I said, my voice shakey, "I just hit myself in the head, but the good news is that I'm not stuck to the wall anymore."

There was a thunk as the fans shut off, "Okay, yeah, I have forty minutes now, the air has stopped. The code, right.. it's uh..." Why the fuck couldn't I remember it? I couldn't be deprived of oxygen already could I? No, you probably gave yourself a concussion you dope.

"Stephie?" Nadia croaked from the floor.

"I'm here," I said, "How bad is it?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, and she coughed, "Where are we?"

"Liam's humidor. Ranger's on his way to get us, so we just have to hang on a little while longer," I said.

"He won't find us in time," she said, "Liam's humidor is like the wine cellar in your house; you can only get in if you know what you're looking..." It was probably bad that she was already breathless too, and her breathing was a ragged, "Roman likes secret rooms, every house has one," she finished with a pain filled, wet cough, that I really didn't like.

"What should he look for Nadia?" I said, "Stay with me and tell me what he's looking for."

"There's a panel in the wainscoting in Liam's office," she said, her voice was getting weaker, "It slides open and there's a button that opens up the staircase to the basement. Liam was so pissed when I changed the humidor that was down here before, into a shoe closet. I changed it back for him and made it better. He started coming back to the house more often. It was getting better between us, and then he had to do that to DeeDee, and I found out he was using me."

"How?" I asked, "Tell me how?"

"He figured out that Brandon was the one doing all of the break-ins, so he went to Drew to figure out what they should do about it. They decided to get him back by doing the same thing to him. They made it this stupid joke too, let him know they knew he was the one airing everybody's dirty laundry."

"That's why it didn't fit the pattern," I said, "but Brandon didn't stop?"

She didn't reply, "Nadia?" I said, "Why didn't Brandon stop?"

Still nothing but a wet rattle that was getting progressively weaker until I couldn't hear her anymore.

"Nadia you have to wake up, you can't go to sleep. It won't be long now, so just hang in there," I said as I carefully made my way across the floor to her. She was still breathing but it was too shallow, I felt around for her pulse and it took me a while to find it. It was thready and very weak..

"Shit!" I said fighting the sob I could feel, tight in my chest. I was scared, and it was starting to get really hard to breathe. I had no sense of time, but I didn't think it could have possibly been forty minutes yet. I tried to take fewer breaths, hoping to extend the amount of air I had left. Isn't that what they did in SciFi shows? And I needed to find a weapon of some kind. Maybe the wooden cigar box I'd seen on the shelf?

I stood up and the room span, either from the lack of oxygen or the blow to the head; I wasn't sure which and it didn't really matter. I went to grab onto a shelf for support and the plate I was still attached to scraped along the ground. "You dope," I muttered, "you're dragging a stupid weapon."

If I could surprise Drew, by waiting for him at the door, I could maybe hit him with the metal plate and make a run for it. Sure I could barely stand but I was trying to be stubbornly optimistic. I felt along the shelves and made my way around the room until I felt the smooth glass of what had to be the door to the Humidor. I kept going until I found myself on what I hoped was the opposite side of the closest shelf to the door. The effort had expended a lot of energy and I was breathing hard. Mindful of the fact that I was using up too much air, I focused again on trying to keep my breathing slow. I was really dizzy now, and I leaned up against the shelf. The air was very thin, so it had to have been longer than I thought. Any minute now, Drew would be back and I would have to act.

I heard four distinct tones being entered in rapid succession and I tried to steady myself, I hauled the plate (which was incredibly heavy now), up, ready to deck him, and then there was a rush of sweet fresh air as the door was wrenched open. I took a step out from my shelf just as the light flicked on, and blinded, I took a swing. A hand grabbed my wrist, and I dropped the plate, and wanted to cry because I blew my only shot. I couldn't though, because I was falling, and rushing towards darkness.

I was only out for a few seconds; I heard Ranger calling my name and felt him gently slapping my cheek. I fought to open my eyes but the temptation to sleep was almost irresistible, "There is an entire wedding cake waiting for you at the house, but you have to wake up first, Babe."

"What flavor?" I asked as I forced my eyes open. Ranger was cradling me in his lap and he chuckled and kissed my forehead.

"I lied, there's no cake," he said.

"That's just cruel," I said and coughed.

"I just had to say something to get your attention," he said. I tried to sit up and he held me down, "Easy Tiger, you're not walking anywhere." I heard the sound of about a million feet running down the stairs and then Morelli, yelling from inside the humidor.

"Priority in here!" Paramedics stampeded past me, and there was a commotion and Nadia came out on a stretcher, with Joe Straddling her and performing CPR.

Another paramedic came to Ranger and me, and an oxygen mask was put over my face. Then Ranger carried me out of the basement, and I was loaded onto my own stretcher in the back of an ambulance.

The ride was short because we weren't far from the private hospital, and I was taken back for immediate treatment and cognitive assessment. Since standing was impossible without falling, they ordered an MRI to see if there had been permanent brain damage from the lack of oxygen.

When that was done, I was admitted and thanks to Chase, put into a hospital room that was nicer than Ranger's place. The only indication that it wasn't a large, gorgeous studio apartment was the hospital bed and associated equipment. I was hooked up to fluids and an oxygen tank and finally allowed to go back to sleep.

When I woke up, Morelli was watching a Spring training game on the large curved flatscreen that hung on the wall opposite the bed.

"Where's Ranger?" I asked.

"Welcome back Cupcake," Morelli said, not taking his eyes off of the television,"Here's a pro-tip, if a wise guy leaves you a message that says 'call me, it's important,' it's probably a good idea to do that."

"I got distracted," I said.

"He was going to tell you that Morty Glick's tip was pure fantasy; he heard I was looking for intel on Jankowitz and they wanted to let you know he was in deep with Juarez," Morelli said.

"Tell him thanks, but I worked that bit out for myself," I said, "Where's Ranger?"

"You were sleeping; he figured you wouldn't mind if he 'helped arrest' Richard," Morelli said, "I'd be out there with him, but he's got the Trenton boys with him, and he figured you'd want someone you know here when you woke up. Oh and he's put a small army outside the door to protect you, just so you know."

"What the hell happened?" I asked, and took off my oxygen mask. The smell of marinara carresed my nostrils and I was suddenly ravenous, "And what are you eating?"

"Meatball sub, it's almost as good as Pino's," Morelli said. He got up from the sofa and brought me half of his sandwich and put it on the wheely bed table for me. I inclined my bed and was about to dive in when Joe stopped me, "Go easy, Cupcake. You might find it a little difficult to keep things down. I'm technically supposed to be giving you soup, but you look so pathetic right now, that I'm sharing this. Don't make me regret it."

So while I ate, Joe filled me in.

When Ranger got back to Rangeman last night, he had to leave on an emergency having to do with the case he'd been working on. Morelli spared me the details, but he said it was a huge deal, and Ranger had to be out all night. He got back to the apartment at a little after 7:30 in the morning and changed to go pick up Julie. He was headed in my direction and stuck in traffic, when he called Bulldog and asked him to make sure I set the Rangeman alarm the night before and learned that I hadn't.

He immediately called my phone, and when that didn't work, he called Hector. Hector came upstairs, checked to see that I was in the bedroom and saw that I wasn't, but he found the appointment card to the spa. Ranger had him pull up my trackers and saw that they were all in the house, but that the truck was at the spa.

Ranger, decided that because it was me, the chances that I was actually at the spa were slim, and put his foot down on the accelerator. Hector called him a few minutes later to say the spa had called to confirm my appointment because I was running late and said the blip for my watch put me at Nadia's. Ranger figured I'd run into Nadia at the spa, and we'd gone back to her place to talk about whatever bug was up her ass. Still, he wasn't taking chances, and he asked Hector why I had taken the truck instead of the golf cart.

Hector went into the garage to see if there was a problem and found Milessa, bound, unconscious and, hidden from the cameras. That's when Ranger called Morelli, because Joe was closer to the resort. I activated my panic button in the middle of the call and Morelli, with security on his heels, rushed to get to the house. When Ranger got there, ten minutes later, they had Chase on the phone, trying to find the contractor who renovated Nadia's house so they could get the updated blueprints.

That's when I got Nadia talking. They found the entrance to the basement and it turned out that Drew had a gun he wasn't afraid of using. It took them a few minutes to subdue him (by that I mean Joe and Ranger emptied their clips into him) and that's when they got to me.

According to the crime scene guys, the reason we ran out of oxygen so quickly, was because Drew misunderstood how the humidor worked. Liam had an extensive, and expensive cigar collection, which he monitored from an app on his iPad. There had to be a delicate balance between the temperature, humidity levels and oxygen in the room, in order to protect the cigars from mould and the dreaded cigar beetle. When he wanted to reduce the level of oxygen in the humidor, an exhaust fan sucked the air out, and then sealed the room. Since cigars don't breathe, there would be no reason for the system to continue to pump in oxygen. If for some reason, the system detected a change in the O2 levels in the room, an alert would appear on the iPad screen and Liam could adjust them as he saw fit.

What Drew was supposed to do, was reduce the temperature and humidity, and then just shut things down. We would have slowly breathed through all of the air over the forty minutes. Drew vented our oxygen, cutting down the amount of air we had by more than half. Add to the fact that Liam's initial calculations were based on the presence of one person, not two, and our forty minutes was cut to a little under ten.

"How's Nadia?" I asked.

"Hanging on," Joe said, "Her heart stopped a few times on the way to the hospital, but we kept her going. She's in critical condition, but she's fighting."

"How did they get into the house without the cameras picking them up?" I asked.

"No idea," Morelli said, "Though I'd bet my paycheck that Ranger is investigating that exact thing."

Ranger and Hector came in as I declared defeat on the sandwich and flopped back on the pillows.

"You're up," Ranger said to Joe, "Rory wants your statement."

Joe left the room, and Ranger closed the door behind him. Hector came to the bed and took my hand; he spoke at length, his face sincere. Then looked at Ranger to translate.

"He's sorry," Ranger said, "He hopes you will forgive him, and he's going to figure out how they bypassed our security."

"He said more than that," I said.

"Yeah, but you go the gist of it. It was a very lengthy apology, and he repeated himself a lot," Ranger said.

"Hector, I could never hate a man who makes coffee like yours," I said.

Ranger translated, and Hector smiled and hugged me. "I am very sorry Stephanie," He said haltingly, but his English wasn't as accented as I expected it to be. Ranger said he suspected Hector understood English better than he let on. I think Hector probably spoke the language pretty well. He held a finger to his lips and winked at me, before he left me alone with Ranger.

I looked at Ranger; he had his arms folded across his chest; his expression unreadable. He was wearing a suit, looking delicious, and if it weren't for a couple of scraped knuckles, you'd never know he had an interesting day.

"This sucks," I said.

He laughed ruefully and ran his hand through his hair, "Yeah, it really fucking sucks," he said. "Babe, I hate to say it, but next time? I'm taking you to the church myself; see you before the wedding, don't see you, your luck is shitty either way. I'd rather be with you when all hell breaks loose."

"I'm glad you're already planning the next time, because I was really excited about marrying you today," I said... and then I promptly started crying. I don't mean a tear fell and then another and then I gradually gave way to emotion. I'm not that graceful; I burst into full on gasping, hiccuping, ugly cry sobbing. Ranger's reaction was to calmly put his jacket on the arm of one of the chairs, pick up a box of tissue and sit on the bed. He pulled me into his arms and stroked soothing circles on the small of my back.

He didn't try any calming words, or try to get me to stop ruining his shirt; he just let me cry it out. At one point a nurse came in to check on me, noticed my distress and for a moment I thought she was going to tell Ranger he had to get out of the bed. This only made me cry harder, but she looked my chart and said, "If it gets to the point you think she needs a sedative, let me know."

When it was finally over, I felt like an idiot, "I'm sorry I don't know why that happened; I've been through worse."

"It's the hypoxia," Ranger said, "You'll find it a little difficult to control your emotions while your brain recovers. It's normal. Even if it wasn't, you nearly suffocated, while locked in a humidor, on your wedding day; I think you're entitled to a meltdown or two."

"Seriously, only I would get locked in a Humidor," I said morosely.

"Babe, only you would get locked in a humidor that was only accessible through a secret passageway," he said and kissed the top of my head. "You've won over the Miami men, by the way."

"How?"

"You kept your head and kept him talking buying the time we needed. Then you got him to give up the code, and you got us the information we needed to find the entrance to the basement," he said. "Bulldog has been on the phone with Lester for the last hour telling him how 'fucking brilliant' you were."

"I suppose you've been to the house?" I said, "and you've seen my dress."

"I haven't actually," Ranger said, "Hector wouldn't let me in until he had it stashed in a garment bag."

"Good, I really wanted it to be a surprise; it's a nice dress."

"So I'm told," he said.

We were quiet for a while, watching the Mets lose the game Joe had been watching earlier. The game was just ending when Hector returned and put up a split screen of surveillance footage on the television. On the left half of the screan was our camera feed; on the right, the feed from Frankish's camera. I was expecting him to show the camera feed looping or something, but I forgot these guys did everything low tech.

From Frankish's camera we watched Milessa arrive with my dress in an opaque ivory garment bag. I let her in and we chatted in the front doorway for a second, before I closed the door. A few minutes later, a man in a white van with a Reef Knot logo, pulled into the driveway next door, and out came Richard, dressed in a maintenance uniform. He carried a ladder over to the front door and leaned it up against the wall to the right of the camera and the door, and therefore out of its field of vision. Anyone walking by would just assume we were having work done.

As we watched the side by side feeds, we saw Richard, using a screwdriver, very subtly adjust the position of the camera, by just a few degrees. He didn't tamper with any cables or even screws. He just slight bent the mount. On our security feed the movement was so subtle, if you were only looking at it out of the corner of your eye, like Hector was, you wouldn't see it. Hell we were looking at it as it was happening and it was still difficult to see that they were creating a blind spot.

From the Frankish camera, we saw him wait for Milessa to exit the house and then he blitzed her. She was out cold before she even knew what was happening. He caught the door before it closed and Drew, coming from somewhere off camera, appeared and calmly walked up to the front door and simply walked in. Richard followed with Milessa over his shoulder. They must have stashed her in a closet somewhere inside the house because I certainly didn't see her, and we didn't see her again on camera, until they carried us both out to the garage, sometime later. Drew dumped Milessa under the steps; Richard tossed me into the back seat of the pickup and they left the garage. They were visible to the cameras for thirty seconds. Then they were gone.

"How would they know where our front door camera was?" I asked Hector. It was well hidden, but they knew exactly where it was. "You didn't pick up the Frankenfeed until after we installed the cameras."

"That was my call," Ranger said, "The locks are hooked into the rest of the security system, including the cameras. If you have to reprogram the locks for any reason, it's like doing an update on your computer; for it to complete, you have to reboot the system. The cameras have a built in redundancy in them in the event that power is cut, a battery takes over so at most there's a tenth of a second where it's not recording or broadcasting somewhere. Because of this in order to reboot them, they have to be physically shut off."

"I thought you could shut them off with your fob," I said.

"I scramble the signal; it records static, but it's still recording," Ranger said.

"So if you knew that you would have to give the camera position away when you fried the lock, why did you do it?" I asked.

"I figured the UnSub would probably go to his video to see if we noticed the attempted breach. Given the complete lack of reaction from Reef Know Security and our rapid response, it would be obvious we had additional security in place. I didn't want him to know how much additional security we had, and I didn't want him to know that when he attempted to pick the lock, he tripped a silent alarm, or that there even was a silent alarm."

"But if we had someone watching a camera feed, and they noticed someone trying to break-in to the house, that would explain the rapid response. And once you learned that someone tampered with your locks, it would only be natural to change them, and have your pass codes changed. To anyone watching Hector, that's what it would have looked like he was doing," I said.

"Yes," Ranger said.

"How come nobody noticed that the truck was missing?" I asked. Ranger looked at Hector, and asked him the question. He clearly wanted to know the answer himself. Hector's response satisfied him.

"Hector was keeping an eye on the cameras from his secondary computer monitor, while he worked on closing the one minute window. When I called to say we had Frankish in custody, and the threat was neutralized, he reverted the program to what I have in the office, so he could use his second monitor again. The cameras are motion sensitive, and the screen would activate if someone was in their field of vision. If there was no movement for a full minute, the screens reverted to whatever was on them before the transmission cut in.

He doesn't know if they knew Hector was in the house, and planned their exit for when he was in the head, or if they were just fucking lucky. He was using both monitors extensively, so there is no way he would have missed the activation of the garage cameras unless he physically wasn't at his desk. We'll have to ask Richard when he's fit for questioning."

"Why the hell was Richard even involved?" I asked. I decided I didn't want to think about why he wouldn't be fit for questioning, but I was willing to bet it had to do with Ranger's bruised knuckles.

"I'm sure we'll find out," Ranger said. I yawned, and he nodded a signal to Hector that I was pretty much done. Hector said goodbye and put us back to Sports Centre.

I was in the hospital for a few days, until my vertigo cleared up. Morelli was called back to Trenton, on day two of my stay, and on day three, Rory came to fill us in on the results of Richard's interrogation.

According to Richard, they had no idea Hector was in the house. If they'd known they would have waited to grab me on my way to the spa in the morning. As for his involvement, it was simple; he was lied to. Liam told Richard that Ranger and I were here under false pretenses. He said Ranger and I were playing upon Roman's admiration for what Ranger did to save his life, to get back at him for testifying against him in a court marshal. He said that Ranger was Other Than Honorably Discharged because his unit was screaming to the press that Ranger was a hero, and the Army didn't need the bad press. If that hadn't been the case, Ranger would be in Leavenworth. Instead, he became a Bounty Hunter and a Mercenary.

According to Liam, Ranger was using his extensive knowledge of security systems to bypass them so Brandon could expose everybody's secrets, and ruin Reef Knot's reputation. Richard was just trying to protect his wife from the damage that would cause. DeeDee needed a lot of help to get where she was today, and she was fragile. Her trial becoming public would have not only ruined her book sales, but it would have ruined her emotionally, and she'd attempted suicide more than once in the past. Drew and Liam assured him their plan was foolproof and that there was no way anyone would know he was involved. It wasn't until he saw what they did to Nadia, that he realized he was in over his head.

His lawyers were already working the defense of a third party, angle. That seemed to be coming up a lot recently; in this instance I didn't know if it would fly. Kidnapping and torture seemed like they might fall outside of what the law constitutes is a reasonable amount of force.

After Rory delivered that news and left. I told Ranger that if he didn't get me discharged and out of the hospital I was going to go completely looney toons, and I was going to do everything in my power to bring him with me. Ranger made arrangements, and I was released that afternoon.

The doctor didn't want me to drive, and with Liam and Ronnie still out there somewhere, my personal security rivaled the President's. While I didn't leave the hospital in a motorcade, that was only because Ranger thought that was a bit much when Bulldog suggested it. That didn't mean that the boys from Rangeman Miami had gone completely over the top with the security at the house, during my incarceration in the hospital.

There were now multiple cameras positioned to cover the entire front of the property, as well as positioned over the boardwalk. In addition to that, they had installed a tempered glass wall that extended the length of the back end of the property. A screen at Rangeman in Miami's monitor bay was now dedicated to the property, and it became official policy that if Ranger wasn't in the house, someone from Rangeman would be. I was assured this precaution was just until the security holes at Reef Knot had been filled. Since Ranger was prone to lying about my protection, I had a feeling that my protection would stay the same, and just be less visible.

We were going to stay in Florida for a few more weeks. The doctors weren't wild about me flying back to New Jersey so quickly after my brush with anoxia, and they wanted to continue to monitor my recovery. So in Florida, we were going to stay. The Monday after everything, it rained all day, and the wind was all over the place, so I had to keep the house closed up. The gloom was doing nothing for my mood and Ranger was in Miami, catching up on several days of missed work. I was weirdly jealous; I hated not working for so long. After moping around the house for a bit, I decided to call Ranger to ask him if I could come in o the office to do something productive, even if it was just administrative.

"Yeah, get Hal to ride shotgun," Ranger said and hung up.

I went upstairs to change out of my shorts into a uniform, and saw my dress hanging in its bag in the closet, waiting for me to wear it. I unzipped the bag and looked at it, besides saying we were going to do it, neither of us had discussed our actual wedding again. I figured it was time, and if he had a minute, I'd bring it up.

So an hour and a half later I knocked on his door at Rangeman. Ranger glanced at the door and said. "Good, I was just about to leave." he picked up a stack of papers and straightened them by tapping them on his desk before he shoved them into a folder and walked to the door. One of his men took it as he walked by and Ranger nudged me into his office the rest of the way, closing the door behind us.

Ranger didn't look harried, Ranger didn't ever look anything but perfectly composed, but considering his cell phone, his desk phone and every phone in Rangeman was ringing like crazy, he was clearly busy.

He parked me at his desk, where there were three stacks of forms, partially filled out, and organized. "It's not exciting, but it needs to be done by the end of the day, and I just don't have the time. I've filled in anything you won't know the answer to, and I've signed anything that needs signing. If I've missed a signature, flag it with a tab. If you're unsure about anything, flag it. The stack on the left are internal, so just toss them in my outbox. The stack in the middle is for Altman's office, call him and tell him when they are ready, so he can send a messenger over. The last one is for the Reef Knot offices and need to come home with us whenever the hell we go home tonight. Pissed off for Reef Knot and Internal, Paperwork for Altman."

"Okay," I said, "And when I'm done that?"

He picked up three folders from his inbox, and handed them to me. They were for local FTA's.

"Right now I'm speaking to you as your boss and not your boyfriend. Do not consider for a second leaving the building to go after any of these men; to say they are out of your league is the understatement of the year. If you think you've figured out where they are, and you try to leave the building, I will have my men lock you in one of our holding cells. If you try to wheedle my men into going with you to take one of these idiots down because you want to prove to me that you can be kick ass..."

"You're going to lock me in the Rangedungeon, got it. Jeeze Louise," I said, "Tell me again how that's not kidnapping?"

"It's absolutely kidnapping, but I'll be nice about it and make sure you have cake," he said and kissed the top of my head.

"What do you want me to do with these then?"

"I want you to work your magic on them; look for leads the way you did for Jankowitz and with the way you chased down the secrets, and I want you to show our probationary agents how you do it," he said, "Silvio is setting up conference room two for you. Just let him know when you're ready."

Ranger's phone rang again and he picked it up, "What?" he listened for a minute, "Can't. I'm getting married on Thursday, and will be offline until Monday unless something dire comes up; call Tank."

He hung up the phone and took his gun out of his desk drawer. "Uh hold on a second, Batman," I said with a laugh, "Is there something I should know?"

"You're going to have to get up early on Thursday; the church is booked solid from now until the end of October. The only spot I could get was for 0830, and that's only because the priest owes me a favor."

"There are other churches," I said.

"Not one that is relatively nearby, and a client. I'm not taking chances this time," he said and checked his watch, "I really have to go." He gave me a very thorough kiss goodbye, and was gone before I had recovered and opened my eyes again.

"Good for you for bringing it up Stephanie," I said to myself, "Way to just take the bull by the horns there."

 _ **AN: Only one more after this! It's short and should be up soon!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: It's the last chapter! It's been so fun writing this, I'm glad you liked it!**

I spent Wednesday at the Reef Knot spa where I got my hair done, and received detailed instructions for styling it again in the morning. I had my nails done, got myself buffed and waxed until I felt really girly, and then Ranger and I drove to Rangeman for the night, so we'd be closer to the church. I managed to convince him that if I traveled with my mini-army, it would be okay if we didn't see each other until the wedding. So I spent the night in one of the empty employee apartments, and he slept in his place.

At 6:00 the next morning, I got up and styled my hair the way I'd been instructed, so that my curls were soft and frizz free. I took my time with my makeup, keeping it relatively light and pretty. At 7:45 Hector banged on my door and I wriggled into my dress, minus the new additions and stuffed my feet into a pair of socks and CAT boots. I wasn't going to risk the train or the shoes until I got to the church.

It was a twenty-minute car ride to the church, and we got there before Ranger, so I waited in the truck with Hal while Hector and Cal cleared the building. They weren't taking any chances, and I wasn't even particularly surprised when another black vehicle filled with Rangemen joined us.

"They volunteered," Hal said when he saw our back-up get out of the SUV, "The boss doesn't know."

"Ranger knows everything," I said.

After Hector and Cal were satisfied that there were no boogeymen hiding inside the church, I went inside and was introduced to a priest named Father Mayhew. He was about my age, and as it turned out, a former chaplain who had been detailed to the Rangers for a while, and that is how he knew my Ranger. It was one of the reasons why Ranger chose him to marry us. Father Mayhew escorted me to his office to wait and finish getting ready.

Father Mayhew's office was cozy, a little chaotic, but well lived in. His desk was old and beat up, with a weird slightly drunken groove that went the length of it. It looked like someone had repeatedly dragged something across the desk, scratching the finish in the same place over and over again, and for some reason Father Mayhew had emphasized this by stretching masking tape, two inches from either side of the groove. I was about to comment when someone behind me said, "Nice Ass!" and I jumped about a foot in the air. I turned to see a big pale pink cockatoo with big black eyes, staring at me, and I swear to God it winked.

"Stephanie, meet Lunch Box," Father Mayhew said. Lunch Box stood on one foot and stuck the other out, "He wants to shake hands. He's gentle, he won't hurt you."

I offered him my hand and he grasped my finger with his claws and shook it, "It's nice to fucking meet you."

"Lunch Box, be polite." Mayhew said. The bird bowed and then started preening.

"I was worried that he was going to shred the train of my dress, now I'm just worried I'm going to get struck by lightning if I stand too close," I laughed.

"The language is a side effect of being raised by the Army," Mayhew said, "Ric's unit was on some Indonesian island, I don't know which one, when they found this guy; he was a baby with a deformed wing and couldn't fly. They couldn't leave him there to die, so they rescued him and put him in this metal lunch box, they'd drilled holes in for air. Protecting the lunch box became as much a part of their mission objective as whatever they were there to do. Ric said it was good for their Karma. Only Moluccan Cockatoos, which is what Lunch Box is, are very smart, and by the time they gave him to me, he thought his name was 'Who has the fucking Lunch Box' I managed to shorten it to Lunch Box, but it took time. And of course the men took great pride in teaching him to speak, and because it was the Army, that included cursing. I figured if I taught him manners, it would balance it out."

"You're a very handsome bird, Lunch Box," I said.

"Fuckin A."

"They do chew a lot, and he may find your train a bit too tempting, so I'll put him away before you finish getting ready," Mayhew said. He walked to the perch and Lunch Box jumped onto his shoulder. Mayhew went to his desk and Lunch Box jumped off and trotted over to the groove. He put his beak down, stuck his wings out, and you could tell the left one wasn't quite right. "Go!" Mayhew said. Lunch Box sprinted across the desk with his wings out and beak down, and then hopped off the edge and walked to a large cage in the corner.

"Personal fucking best bitches!" The bird said before he climbed in and closed his door with his beak. Mayhew walked over and locked the door with a with a pad lock and handed the bird a lock pick.

"You're joking," I said.

"Nope," Mayhew said.

"Let me guess who taught him that," I said dryly.

"He read they can learn to open mechanical locks, and be taught to use tools, he thought he'd give it a shot," Mayhew said, "Actually..."

Mayhew walked to one of his crowded book cases and pulled a picture down; he came back and handed it to me. It was a twenty something Ranger sitting cross legged on the ground, in green camo pants, not shirt, with Lunch Box on his knee. Ranger was picking a simple pad lock and the bird was clearly riveted.

"This is fantastic," I said.

"If his life had been different, he probably would have kept Lunch Box," Mayhew said. Lunch Box let out a shrill yell and the lock gave, "Come on bird, let's make your bed while Miss Plum gets ready." He picked up a stack of used newspapers from a pile in the corner of his office and carried them over to the cage to change the paper. He laid them down on the bottom, while Lunch Box happily shredded paper to go on top of it.

Hector helped me finish getting the dress put together and at exactly 8:25, Cal knocked on the door to let me know that Ranger was there. Father Mayhew left to greet him and prepare for the ceremony; knowing Ranger as he did, I'm sure he realized that when Ranger said 8:30, he meant it.

I knew the next five minutes were going to feel like an eternity, so, to stop myself from staring at the clock, I picked up a section from one of the month-old newspapers left on the desk. Lunch box was pretending to sleep with his wing over his eyes, in his shredded pile of paper, but he kept peaking at my train, "Don't even think about it buster."

"I'll keep an eye on him, Bomber," Hal said and crouched in front of the cage and I went to my paper.

It turned out that I'd randomly chosen the Arts section, from the Jacksonville News. The picture above the fold was of a ten foot tall, marble statue that claimed to be of Athena, but really looked like a random shape with an enormous bronze breastplate and a sword. It looked pretty cool, even if it wasn't my idea of what a goddess looked like, and I started to read the article. Athena would be on display at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Jacksonville until, yesterday actually, before it went home to France, today.

I was about to put the paper down when the names Francoise and Rene LaPorte caught my attention. They were the owners of the statue, and had loaned it to the museum for an exhibit studying the female form. The article spoke of the great expense to ship the statue from France, and the director of the museum thanked them profusely for their generosity.

"Hal, did Pierre LaPorte make bail?" I asked, looking up from the paper.

"They released him almost right away. They like him on the streets because his fuck ups always net them bigger fish. Why?" he said. I didn't respond because I was too busy remembering something Stanley had said.

 _"I appreciate the truth that's found in beauty; it is something that needs to be respected, and you don't lie to something you respect."_

Fat Stanley was creepy, but I didn't once feel like he wasn't being honest, and neither did Ranger. In fact, Ranger put me in the room with Stanley because he knew it would be the quickest way to get information. What if he'd been telling the truth and didn't know who Perry Weston was? Wouldn't that then make his warning about Larry genuine?

"Did Larry say why he forged the bags?" I asked.

"He said it was part of a money laundering scheme," Hal said.

"How?"

"You'd have to ask Ranger," he said.

"Did it have to do with the reason Ronnie was under an SEC investigation in the first place?"

"I think so, don't ask me how; that's above my paygrade."

"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked. Hal gave it to me and I called Brenda Blomsky at the resort. I'm pretty sure I woke her up, she sounded groggy and maybe a little hung over when she answered the phone with a, "Wha? Hello?"

"Hey, it's Stephanie. Were Ronnie Jankowitz and Daniel Winslow part of the same SEC investigation?"

"Yeah, why?"

"What were they doing?"

"Steph, I can't give you details about an on-going investigation," she said.

"Can you tell me how Larry was laundering the money?" I asked, "I know that's not a secret."

She sighed, "He was using the eBay store to hide payments to various unsavory characters. In among his regular listings, he would put a bag with a high reserve so nobody wanted to bid on it. There would be a few other bags, with lower bids, with auctions ending within about five to fifteen minutes of the Reserve. This would cause a bidding frenzy on the Reserve bag, driving the price way up. Then at the last minute two of the bidders caught up in the frenzy would outbid every body else, by a substantial amount. That would be either Jankowitz or Winslow, or someone in their employ. The money would go into Larry's account and he would then use it to make a purchase or purchases at an online store that would be taken down immediately after he completed his transactions. The fake bags served to camouflage the false listings, and make the store look legit. It was a good plan, the store has been up and running for years now," She yawned enormously, "Jesus what the hell are you doing up so early? You're supposed to be recuperating."

"I'm getting married in two minutes," I said.

"And you're calling about this? You've got weird priorities," Brenda said and hung up.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks." I said, not realizing right away that she was already going back to sleep, because that's when it started clicking.

what the hell was Jankowitz doing in Florida in the first place? He was definitely bound for Peru, Drew pretty much said it, but what if the intention was never to fly there? The SEC investigation had been going on for months; what if they knew that Winslow and Jankowitz were under investigation and they were preparing to make them disappear; and that was the real reason they brought in a fuck up like LaPorte? It was the one thing Ranger said that he never fucked up; people chose to work with LaPorte because he was an expert smuggler. Then Jankowitz cracked under the stress, and went after his wife and her boyfriend. Then he panicked and decides to clean up his own mess, calls Vinnie, never intending to stay in the country; he gets his own fake documentation and books a flight to Peru. What if Liam then convinced him not to get on the plane and to stick to the original plan. Taking a commercial flight is basically begging to get caught; I mean it took Ranger's men all of an hour to figure out where he was headed. If he gets caught headed for Peru, the dominoes would start to fall, and they would get swept up.

"Holy shit!" I said.

I wrenched open the office door and, still holding the newspaper in my hand, sprinted down the aisle to Ranger. He was dressed, in pretty much the same thing he was wearing the last time we tried to get married, and he looked amazing, but I wasn't able to appreciate it just yet.

"Not that I don't appreciate the way you haul ass in heels, but it is traditional for a woman to walk down the aisle at her wedding," Ranger said, when i got there.

"I'm just impressed you didn't break your neck," Father Mayhew said.

"I know where Jankowitz and Stokes are. LaPorte was released from jail, and his father has a big honkin' statue that's leaving for France sometime today," I sort of said.

It came out in a rush and I was winded from my sprint so it sounded more like, "I where Jankostokes Port released big honk statue France day," but with like, a lot of panting.

"Want to run that by me again?" Ranger said. I handed him the paper and put my hands on my knees and caught my breath while he read the article.

"Bomber, you should consider trying out for the Olympics wearing those shoes," Hal said, coming up behind me. "You're faster in them than you are in sneakers."

I gave him a thumbs up, and straightened again, clutching at a stitch in my side. While I knew I was winded because I'm really out of shape, I was choosing to blame it on the Hypoxia. Milk it while you can right?

"The statue leaves today," I said, "And however that statue is getting home; that's where Jankowitz and Stokes are. It'll be on a ship; that thing's too big for a plane."

"Contact, our people at the Port Authority," Ranger said and handed Hal the newspaper, "Find out what ship this statue is on, and get them to delay it's departure until we get there. We leave in thirty."

I went to follow Hal back to the office when Ranger snagged my hand, "Where are you going?" he asked.

"We have to get to the..."

"That's why I said we were leaving in thirty minutes. We have something important to do first," Ranger said, he turned to Father Mayhew, "We're going to have to make this quick; she's going to need time to change."

"Oh no, I'm good to go," I said, "This is a mini-dress, the train comes off, and I've got boots here, and a stun gun in my purse."

"That's my girl," Ranger said with a grin, and he kissed my forehead.

"Let's do this then, shall we?" Father Mayhew said.

 ** _AN: I know there are a couple of loose ends, like what's up with Ranger's nephew? and what did Morelli get on that video? All by design my friends! There will be more, as soon as I finish working out that plot._**

 ** _So far it involves grandma, a male stripper, a murder, and maybe a prison break._**

 ** _Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It was a fun story to write, so I'm very happy you enjoyed it!_**


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